


Someday We're Gonna Know Too Much To Know It All

by smc_27



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 99,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: She watches him close his eyes and then he leans in and his lips are pressing against hers, and this is her first kiss and her hands clench in fists at his back just before he pulls away. Her eyes search his face after and he lets out his breath.Allie likes that Harry is someone that has always been just hers.
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Allie Pressman
Comments: 251
Kudos: 295





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is going to be a journey. It'll be 11 chapters (well, 10 plus an epilogue) of childhood friends to lovers. Enjoy!

She’s seven when Cassandra collapses in the kitchen. Allie’s too young to know what’s going on, but she will never, ever forget the way her mom panics and her dad carries Cassandra to the couch and the ambulance screaming into the driveway. 

Allie’s grandma picks her up at the hospital and takes her to her house, and she spends the next two weeks sleeping on one of the twin beds in the guest room. She’s never slept in there without Cassandra before. 

She helps her grandma garden, because it’s summer and there’s no school and nothing to do, really. She picks weeds and drops them into the bucket that sits between them. The second day, they go to the hardware store in town and her grandma buys her a little pair of gardening gloves. They drink sweet tea on the back porch and her grandpa barbecues, and one day, brings her bike from home and a little suitcase with more clothes. 

During the day, in the mornings, they go see Cassandra. No one will tell Allie what’s going on. 

“It’s my heart,” Cassandra finally says when they’re sitting alone and their grandma is talking to their parents.

Allie asks, “Is it broken?” and feels stupid, but then Cassandra’s eyes are shiny and she nods her head.

Allie wakes up in the morning and her grandpa shares a bagel with her, and she rips weeds from the garden while he mows the lawn. She’s angry and scared and when she looks up, her hair falls in her eyes, and she pushes it away just in time to see a boy riding by on a bike. He’s not wearing a helmet. He turns around and comes back, stands astride his bike in front of her, with a patch of grass and some flowers and mulch between them. 

“Who are you?” he asks. Allie’s about to answer when Harry smiles at her grandpa and says, “Hi, Mr. Pressman.”

Allie hadn’t even noticed the lawnmower’d been cut off. 

“Mr. Bingham,” her grandpa calls out, walking across the lawn. It’s drawn out, like ‘Misssster Bingham!’ and her grandpa’s voice is really loud. She watches Harry’s face, and sits back on her heels. “Up to no good, I’m sure.” The boy gives a smile and shrugs a shoulder. “Our helper here is Allie, my granddaughter. Harry just moved in two houses down.”

She waves, then goes back to weeding, and Harry says goodbye and rides off. 

She takes flowers to Cassandra when they’re letting her out of the hospital. Allie sleeps in her own bed that night, and opens Cassandra’s bedroom door in the morning to make sure she’s still there and her breaths are rising and falling like they’re supposed to.  
… … …

Cassandra’s surgery is two weeks after the start of the school year. Allie goes back to her grandparents’ with a whole suitcase of clothes and her backpack of school things. The bedroom with the two beds now just has one, and her grandma helps her unpack her things and put them in the new dresser that’s on the wall where the other bed used to be. 

“Am I moving here?” she asks, and it feels silly, but maybe no one’s telling her the truth. 

“Oh, no, honey.” Her grandma’s tone is sweet and gentle and she sits on the bed. “It’s just for a little bit.”

“Like before?”

There’s a sad smile, then, one Allie isn’t used to seeing, really. Except on people’s faces when they talk about Cassandra. 

Her grandma pushes her fingers through Allie’s hair, tucks it behind one ear. “A little longer, this time.”

In the morning, her grandpa drives her to school. She spends all day answering questions, like why she wasn’t on the bus, and where’s Cassandra, and are their parents getting divorced, or something. 

She’s _scared_.

When her grandma comes to pick her up, they stop and get groceries on the way home, and then when they’re pulling into the drive, Allie sees a bus rounding the corner to stop in front of the big white house down the street that has the blue door and shutters. Harry gets off the bus, holding his backpack in one hand. He pulls a set of keys from his pocket.

Allie hears her grandma suck her teeth, and then she’s taking Allie by the hand and walking down the street. She leans down and says to Allie, “Shout his name as loud as you can,” as if it’s some kind of secret or dare. 

Harry turns around at the bottom of his porch and looks over when Allie does it. Her grandma waves him over and he drops his backpack by the steps before breaking into a jog. 

“Come in until your mother is home.”

Allie doesn’t know what’s happening, but Harry does as he’s told, and even carries a bag of groceries just like Allie is. He’s wearing a uniform, so she knows he doesn’t go to her school. Well, she knew that anyway. But his navy pants and white shirt with a patch on the front look kind of goofy to her. 

Her grandma fixes them apples with peanut butter as a snack and then pushes them out the back door to play. It’s still hot out, and Allie wishes she had her trampoline from home. 

Harry does some fancy footwork with the soccer ball he finds, and Allie asks how he knows how to do that. 

“I’m really good,” he tells her, and then kicks the ball hard against the wood fence. He didn’t answer the question. He teaches her how to kick the ball properly, but also makes fun of her for not knowing how in the first place. She tells him she picked art classes instead of sports, and he says she should draw something to prove it. 

She’s embarrassed, so she doesn’t. 

Not long later, there’s a woman in a black suit rounding the side of the house. She smiles at him, then at Allie, and tells him to go in and thank Mr. and Mrs. Pressman. 

Allie follows him in, with the woman behind her, and washes her hands when her grandpa tells her to. 

“Dear, I wish you’d just leave him to me instead of on his own,” her grandma pleads. Harry’s looking at his shoes. Allie’s grandma puts a hand on his shoulder. “Now that Allie’s joined us, they can have a play for an hour together.”

The woman’s lips are in a tight line, but then she sighs and says, “I’ll talk with James,” and Allie wonders why adults always have to make decisions as a pair. 

She’s doing her homework at the kitchen table, and realizes she didn’t think of Cassandra once while she was in the back yard with Harry. 

… … …

Two days later, Cassandra goes into surgery, and Allie has a stomachache and doesn’t go to school. Her grandpa says something about stress. Harry didn’t come yesterday, but in the morning the phone rings and then her grandma tells her he’ll be by after school from now on. Allie tucks her hands under her cheek on the sofa and likes the heavy weight of the afghan over her. She watches game shows and drinks ginger ale and worries all day long. She thinks they all do. 

Her grandpa goes to meet Harry at the bus stop. Allie asks if they can watch television instead of going outside. There’s crackers and cheese set on the coffee table and a nature show about alpacas on the screen. Harry sits on the floor and passes her snacks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and Allie nods, but isn’t sure if it’s true. 

“My sister’s…” She doesn’t know how to say it. She settles on, “She’s at the hospital.”

Harry takes a deep breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

The next day when he arrives, she’s already home from school and helping with veggies and hummus for their snack. Her grandma fans out carrot sticks and celery and pita bread on a plate with a little bowl in the centre. 

Harry carries it to the back yard as her grandpa suggested, sits them down under the shade of the big tree. 

“Is she okay?” he asks, and Allie says, “Yeah.”

She likes that he thought to ask. She doesn’t know all the details so she doesn’t say anything, really. She says something about Cassandra’s heart, and surgery, and how everyone’s talking in whispers and worrying. Harry licks hummus from his fingers and then flops back onto the grass. Allie does the same. She likes lying here with him, and closes her eyes. It startles her when he throws a stick of celery and it lands on her chest. Then she’s laughing and telling him he’s crazy. 

For the next three weeks, they spend every afternoon eating snacks in the backyard, playing soccer or making up their own games. She tries to teach him to jump rope better, but he’s a little hopeless. They draw with chalk on the stone path - not in the front drive because he doesn’t want anyone to see. He tries a dragon, which looks bad, and she does a hummingbird which looks good. Even he says so. It rains one day and they spend it inside, baking chocolate chip cookies and licking melted chocolate from their fingers when they’re each allowed to eat one warm from the oven. 

She’s packing her things on Saturday to go home, and she realizes she’s going to miss him. 

… … …

In the summer, she asks to be signed up for soccer. Her mom asks something about the cost, but then after they look up the registration fees, they say yes. Her dad works a lot now, and her mom is working, too, and taking care of them, and shuttling Cassie to the doctor’s appointments she has sometimes in the city.

Cassandra doesn’t come to Allie’s practice. Allie doesn’t ask her why, but does ask their mom. 

“She’s a little sad she can’t join, too.”

Her first game, they all come to watch her. Her grandma and grandpa are there, too. Allie scores a goal but her team loses. Her grandparents take her for ice cream anyway, and then drop her back off at home. 

She’s on the edge of the tub washing the grass stains off her knees and elbows when Cassandra comes in, smiling, the scar on her chest peeking up under the tank top she’s wearing. 

“You’re really good,” she says, and Allie grins. “Is it fun?”

Allie thinks soccer has been fun since she first kicked a ball at the end of last summer in the back yard with Harry.

… … …

She’s in her room and she knows her grandma is downstairs, and she’s about to go down and say hello when she hears her mom’s voice rise. Allie pauses at the top of the stairs. 

“I’m not telling you how to parent, but you better find a way to make that girl feel like she’s as important to you as Cassandra.”

Allie feels tears in her eyes and decides this isn’t a conversation she can interrupt, and thinks that her mom shouldn’t have to hear that from someone else.

… … ...

When she’s 11, a few things happen. 

She makes the A squad at the start of summer, meaning a more competitive team and a little bit of travel for tournaments. 

And Cassandra’s having more complications. 

Allie’s in her room and her parents come in, ask her to sit down and flank her on the bed. They tell her they’ve got to go to New York for Cassandra’s treatment this time, because there’s a specialist at a hospital there and it’s the best thing for her. Allie’s ready to start packing her things into a suitcase before they say the next thing. 

“You’ll stay with grandma and grandpa.”

That really felt like it was a given. 

The first weekend, they go to Lowe’s and Target and her grandma asks her what colour she wants to paint the bedroom, and what bedding and lamps and pillows she wants. Allie settles on pale green walls, a floral comforter set, and a grey vase she likes that matches some of the flowers in the comforter. Her grandma also insists on a new area rug, though apparently it puts her over budget. She doesn’t mind, or so she says. 

Allie sleeps on the sofa for one night while the paint dries. When she comes home from soccer practice, her grandpa says they’ll have lunch then start on the furniture. 

Her grandma brings in fresh cut flowers for the vase. Allie feels grown up for the first time in her life. 

The other thing that happens is Harry Bingham and his baby sister tend to walk through the neighbourhood. He pushes the stroller and sometimes holds her hand as she toddles along next to him. She sees them from the window a few times, and then when she’s outside watering the flowers, they’re walking past and Harry smiles when he sees her, steers the stroller up the driveway.

She’s seen him around, because it’s a small town. They’ve even said hi a few times. They don’t talk about those few weeks they spent playing when she was seven and he was eight. Why would they? 

She’s wearing shorts and a bathing suit - her grandparents let her walk to the public pool as long as she’s not alone, and Becca is coming over in a little bit so they can go together. 

“Who’s this?” she asks, peeking into the stroller. The little one sitting there is looking at Allie like she’s irritated. 

“Penelope,” he answers, and the baby looks up at him. “I call her Poppy. She’s being a snot.”

Allie gives him a look. “That’s not very nice.”

“She wouldn’t stop crying,” he tells her, and Allie wonders if he’s babysitting, or something. “She likes walking.” He pushes the little girl’s hair off her forehead, and she bats his hand away a little too late. “You got taller.”

Laughing, Allie replies, “It happens.” 

Her grandma steps outside, then, and hurries over, touching Allie on the back as she passes. She makes quick work of the buckle holding Penelope in the stroller and suddenly the baby is happy as a clam and reaching up to be held. Allie isn’t surprised. Who wouldn’t love her grandma? 

“Come in for lemonade,” she commands, and Harry’s smiling even though Allie thinks he’s trying to look annoyed. They all go in and have fresh strawberries and lemonade and Penelope toddles around the living room babbling and flocking to Allie’s grandma constantly. 

Becca shows up 20 minutes later, and Allie almost hates to leave. She says goodbye and grabs her bag with her towel and sunscreen. As they walk down the driveway Becca whispers, “Was that Harry Bingham in your _living room_?” and Allie only then realizes that anyone else she knows, knows who he is. 

… … …

Harry babysits Penelope all summer. A few times a week, he stops in for a chat, or to hang out in the backyard. One time, she holds the little girl while Harry helps grandpa clean the gutters. Well, he just holds the ladder, and Allie could’ve done that. But it doesn’t matter. Penelope’s come to like her and get more and more comfortable. They play on the grass and Allie does her best to keep the kid out of the flower beds. 

Harry shows up to one of her soccer games. He stands next to her grandpa and she sees them talking. She’s sweating and her hair is frizzy even though her grandma pulled it off her face before they left the house. He leaves before the game is over, but the next day he asks her when she got so into soccer. She doesn’t give him a solid answer. He tells her he doesn’t play anymore, and she’s too afraid to ask why not.

… … …

Allie starts middle school and has new binders to keep her notes in order. She draws stars on her new green backpack, which annoys her mom, but she doesn’t really care. She stops wearing her hair in ponytails. Sometimes Cassandra will braid it for her, and Becca wants her to put it in a bun, but Allie doesn’t like the way it feels when she takes it down. 

After a year apart because Cassie started middle school last year, they’re all on the same bus again. Cassie’s friends aren’t mean to Allie, even the new ones who are bussed in from across town now. 

For Thanksgiving, they go to their grandparents’ house, like every year. And Allie’s mom cries when she thanks God for Cassandra’s health. Cassie squeezes Allie’s hand under the table. Allie doesn’t know what to be thankful for, really, because there’s a lot. 

“I’m thankful for Grandma and Grandpa.”

Her mom cries harder, and Allie doesn’t know why. 

When she looks out the window after dinner, when her grandpa has lit a fire in the fireplace - the first of the year, which is his tradition. There are a bunch of cars in Harry’s driveway. She wonders what his house looks like on the inside. She’s never been. She never thought it was weird until right now, thinking about all the times he came here. 

… … ...

She gets her period earlier than Cassandra got hers, and, like most things between them, it’s a competition. Their mom says something about it being because of Cassandra’s medications, and their dad says something about this not being appropriate dinner table conversation. Allie presses her hand against her stomach under the table and scoops some peas onto her fork. 

“I don’t actually care,” Cassandra says later, when Allie’s in bed with her homework and a hot water bottle. This is kind of the worst. Cassandra pulls back the covers and gets into bed. “Want help?”

Allie would love help, but she’s too stubborn not to figure things out on her own. She finishes quickly anyway, puts her book aside, and then they watch Friday Night Lights on Cassie’s laptop. 

… … …

She goes to soccer camp two towns over during Christmas break. Her grandpa drives her one morning - the Saturday - so her parents can sleep in. He stops at Dunkin’ Donuts and gets her a hot chocolate and a croissant breakfast sandwich, and he listens to country music too loudly. Allie just laughs and warms her hands on her cup. He tells her about Vince Gill and they’re quiet for the duration of Go Rest High On That Mountain, says it’s her grandma’s favourite song. Allie didn’t know that, but likes that she does now. 

She slides for a ball during scrimmage and scrapes her knee on the turf. She doesn’t think anything of it, but the coach pulls her off the field and tells her to see the trainer. It’s irritating that she had to come out of the game, and the peroxide stings more than she wants to let on. They place a large bandage over it and as she slings her bag over her shoulder and walks towards him after practice, her grandpa shakes his head.

“Why’d you have to go and get injured under my purview, honey?” he asks, slinging his arm around her shoulder and shaking slightly so she’ll know he’s joking. 

“I’m okay.”

“Oh, I know it,” he laughs. “I don’t think you sat down more than five minutes after leaving half your leg on the field.”

Allie smiles more proudly than she should. 

“Thanks for driving me,” she tells him randomly on the way home, and he looks surprised, but smiles and tells her he doesn’t mind at all. 

… … …

Harry and Penelope are in her grandparents’ house when Allie shows up one day for a visit. Her parents dropped her off. Cassandra had homework to do and all Allie has is stupid valentines to fill out, even though no one in her grade actually wants to do this. She’s got hers in a tote bag from the local grocery store with some markers and stickers, and she feels really, really stupid all of a sudden. 

Harry looks really cute sitting on the couch with a piece of cake on a plate resting on his knees. The cake is white with pink frosting and purple sprinkles. 

He smiles when he sees her. “Hey.” 

Penelope runs over, more steady on her feet than the last time Allie saw her, and wants to be picked up. She calls Allie ‘Al’. Allie puts down her stupid bag and walks into the house. 

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, and Harry shrugs a shoulder. 

Her grandma, bringing a piece of cake over for her, too, says, “They’re here a few hours while their parents are out.” Allie doesn’t really get it, because she knows he spent the whole summer without supervision. But then again… She locks eyes with her grandma, and smiles. “I insisted.”

Yeah, that makes more sense. 

Allie puts Poppy down on her feet and sits next to Harry. When she pushes her hair over her shoulder, it brushes his arm and he looks down at it, then back up at her face. 

“What’s with this mane?” he asks, teasing, flicking her hair with the end of his fork he’s not using for cake. 

“What?” she asks with her mouth full, earning her a tutt from her grandma. “I’m growing it.”

“Guess so,” Harry laughs. She sticks her tongue out at him and he sticks his out at her. His tongue is super pink from the icing. Poppy laughs and sticks her finger into his icing before he can pull his plate away. 

Allie’s knee presses against his when they’re watching Monsters Inc. because her grandparents have it on DVD from when she and Cassie were littler, and Poppy likes it. Harry pushes her hair off his arm again and mumbles something under his breath about ‘sports girls’ always having such long hair. Allie tries to think if that’s true. It might be. All the girls on her team have long hair. Most of them care more about putting it into elaborate styles for practices and games. Allie usually just loops an elastic around it a few times and leaves it be, unless someone else offers to do it for her.

She gathers it over her shoulder and does a loose braid. Harry reaches over, places his finger right in the middle of the braid and tugs downward, unraveling her work. 

“I was just teasing,” he tells her quietly, not looking at her. 

Allie climbs off the couch and sits on the floor cross legged with Poppy on her lap. When Karen arrives to pick up her kids, she smiles widely when she sees Allie and wishes her well as she leaves. 

Harry has a hand stuffed in the pocket of his jeans and waves with the other one before he pulls the door closed behind him. 

… … …

It’s almost weird, not spending the summer living with her grandparents. It’s not that she’s done it every summer, it’s just that with her parents around, everything feels really different. Her dad just got a different job and turned a room in the basement into an office and now he works at home instead of commuting. So he’s home all the time, and Cassandra is there, and their mom is around, and Allie realizes that she _liked_ last summer when she had the town to herself and more of the attention. Then she immediately feels badly for thinking it, and knows she should be grateful that her family is around. That Cassandra is fine. 

Her grandma comes to collect them on a Wednesday not too long into summer, says she wants help with the gardening. Cassandra looks at Allie like this is weird, and Allie realizes this is normal for her. 

Cassie worries about getting dirt under her nails, and so grandma sends her off to water with the hose, and Allie giggles when her grandma rolls her eyes dramatically. 

“We’ll go for a swim afterward.” Allie furrows her brow. The public pool’s not open until 5pm on Wednesdays. “The Binghams’. Back pay for all that babysitting,” her grandma says with a wink, not serious at all.

Harry’s in the water when they get there. Poppy’s wearing this little inner tube thing to keep her floating, but Harry’s got her hands in his anyway, tugging her around the pool. He looks to Allie, then to Cassandra, and Allie can’t really understand what he’s communicating, but it’s something. 

Cassandra still feels weird about her scar, so she usually swims with a tee shirt on, but sometimes doesn’t want to swim at all. Today, she finds a seat next to the pool and puts some more sunscreen on her nose while Allie tugs off her clothes and gets ready to dive in. Poppy laughs and splashes, and Harry groans when the water hits him in the face. He’s relieved of his child minding duties when grandma enters the pool, because she takes over almost immediately. Harry kicks his legs a little, splashing his little sister back just a touch, but being careful not to splash grandma. 

“Wanna race?” he asks when he’s closer to Allie, and she knows she smiles too big and swims towards the wall a little too easily. 

They settle on four laps, and Harry gets Poppy to count them down. Even Cassie laughs at that. 

Allie loses, and asks for best two out of three. He wins anyway and she tries no to be a sore loser. She comes up out of the water after swimming to the side closest to the house, and when she looks up, Harry’s running a hand through his hair and reaching for a towel. 

She’s looking at Harry, but she notices Cassie looking at her. 

That evening, Cassie flops down on the sofa when they’re all watching TV in the living room and whispers, “So, who’s Harry?” and Allie hisses at her to shut up. 

… … …

Cassandra faints during one of Allie’s games, on a Saturday morning at the end of July. Her dad and Cassie stayed home because she had been asked to babysit the Schifflers’ kids this afternoon and the timing didn’t really work out. It’s usually dad on the sidelines with a bottle of water and a folding chair, sunglasses over his eyes, but this time it’s her mom. 

But Allie learns all this later.

Allie comes off the field at the end of the game and can’t find her mom. She’s not sitting where she was before, and Allie was too busy playing soccer to have watched her go. She remembers being a little kid and spending more time eyeing her parents than the ball, but she hasn’t done that in ages. 

Karen Bingham is walking towards her, a solemn look on her face and Poppy’s hand in hers. Allie’s stomach drops. 

“Sweetheart,” Karen stops, takes a breath as Allie watches her face. “Your sister...Come with me.”

Allie has so many questions, and she’s not a little kid anymore, and she wishes people would just stop freaking treating her like one. 

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, and Karen tilts her head, sighs like she doesn’t know what to say. Allie realizes she just might not want to do it in front of Poppy. The whole reason the Binghams are even here is because Poppy plays with the little kids on the next field. So Allie sees them, at least from a distance, almost every weekend. Sometime’s Harry’s with them. Sometimes Mr. Bingham, who Allie’s never actually met in person. 

She just wants to know why she’s being sent off with a woman her mom’s only met like, twice. There can’t be a non-scary reason for that. 

Karen sets her hand on Allie’s shoulder, thumb stroking lightly. Allie almost admires that Karen looks her right in the eye for maybe the first time today. 

“Cassandra fainted, is what I was told.” Allie swallows. She supposes it’s an important distinction - this is what Karen was told. They all know it’s probably worse than just a dizzy spell. “Your mom asked me to keep you until your grandparents can get back.”

Allie’s throat tightens for the first time. She’d forgotten her grandparents were out of town for the weekend visiting Allie’s aunt and uncle in upstate New York. She’s scared and feels alone, and at least when she’s with them she feels less of that last thing and her grandparents help with the first. 

She sits in the front seat of the Binghams’ huge SUV, despite Poppy wanting her to sit in the back with her. Karen drives carefully, and Allie looks out the window and swipes angrily at the tears that fall down her face. She’s mad that her parents haven’t gotten her the cell phone she’s been asking for. Cassie has had one for two years. For emergencies. Allie thinks it’s really, really not fair that their parents seem to think these emergencies only ever happen to Cassie, as if Allie doesn’t feel them, too. 

When they pull up the driveway, the garage door opens, and Allie sees two other cars in there. A red convertible and a black car that looks expensive and Allie’s never seen anyone driving before. She wipes her eyes with her navy blue soccer jersey and tries to stop digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands. 

Unlike her family’s garage, this one is neat and organized, with hooks and shelves and things neatly packed away in bins. There are four bikes hanging on the wall, and the garbage bins are lined up along the side. There’s a chest freezer and even the pool toys are stored away properly. 

Allie is focusing on the orderly to shield herself from the chaos. 

Harry’s in the living room playing a video game of some kind when they walk in, and scrambles to pause it, looks like he’s been caught. Allie notices the look on Karen’s face, then, and realizes maybe he’s not supposed to be playing. 

“Allie’s staying for a bit,” Karen explains, and Harry is just staring at her. She places her hand on Allie’s hair, smoothes it down over her messy ponytail. “Sweetheart, would you like to shower?” Allie just nods, not trusting her mouth to work. Not trusting that she won’t open it and a sob will come out. Not trusting that she won’t ask how the hell they live in a house this big, anyway. “Harry.”

He steps forward, closes the space between them and gives her the saddest smile she’s ever seen. She swallows. 

“I’ll show you,” he says, and Allie nods, follows him down the hall, her bag still over her shoulder, and then up a huge staircase that leads from the foyer and front door to the second floor. When they get to the top, he waits for her, turns around just in time to see her wiping her eye. “Are you okay?” She doesn’t want to lie, so she shakes her head. “Cassandra?”

Allie isn’t sure if he’s asking if Cassandra is the issue, or if she’s okay. Either way, Alie shrugs her shoulders and clenches her teeth. 

Harry walks her into what must be a guest bedroom and shows her the ensuite. The shower looks complicated. Allie thinks the only time she’s ever seen towels this white and fluffy was at the hotel they stayed at in New York two years ago when they went to see Wicked and spent two days like tourists on ‘vacation’. The soaps are shaped like little starfish and sand dollars, and there are three candles in clear glass vases sitting on the counter. There’s fancy shampoo and conditioner in the shower, too. 

Harry grins at her when he sees her reach for her left elbow with her right hand. “Here.” He reaches into the shower stall and turns the knobs, holds his hand under the water after a few seconds, then makes the showerhead spray water. “You reek like sweat and grass.”

Without wanting to, she lets out a laugh and reaches over to shove him. He stumbles backwards and looks almost proud to have made her smile. 

“I do not.” He raises his eyebrow and tilts his head. “Do you think...All I have is this.” She looks down at herself, her soccer uniform, and Harry does, too. 

“I’ll get you something and leave it on the bed.”

Allie nods. He walks past her and shuts the door on his way out of the bathroom. 

She looks at herself in the mirror for the first time. Her eyes are red and cheeks flushed - maybe from soccer or crying or trying not to cry. Her hair is curling along her hairline even more than usual, because of sweat and humidity. There are grass stains on her hands and dirt on her elbows. Her mom’s been letting her and Cassie wear blush and lipgloss and mascara, but all she had on today was the Burt’s Bees lip balm with SPF that she keeps in her soccer bag, in the side pocket with her keys and the $20 her mom insists she carry around ‘just in case’. 

She strips down, thankful she keeps a spare pair of underwear and sports bra in her bag. It’s there for tournaments, because sometimes they have back to back games. She didn’t take it out after her last tourney. She didn’t think it would be useful. She wishes she didn’t have to be thankful under these circumstances. 

The spray of the shower feels good, and it’s better pressure than maybe she’s ever had. The shampoo in there smells expensive, like oranges and vanilla and something else she doesn’t know. As she lets the conditioner set, she scrubs her skin with a soap in the shape of a clam shell and watches the dirty water run down the drain. 

At some point, she starts crying again. At her house, there’s just one bathroom for her and Cassandra to share, but here, she isn’t worried about taking too long. She thinks this house is big enough for there to be a bathroom for all of them individually. She also thinks no one will be upset with her for taking her time. 

She holds one of the white towels around her body and steps out of the washroom again. The bedroom door is closed, and there are shorts and a tee shirt folded on the bed. The shorts might be his mom’s. They’re from Lululemon, and they’re purple and green with a black band across the hips. The shirt is from Harry’s school, with the crest on the chest pocket. Everything is too big. She rolls the waist of the shorts and the sleeves of the shirt, and then tugs her brush through her hair and pulls it up into a stupid bun so it doesn’t soak the back of this shirt. She stuffs her dirty clothes into her bag and hangs the towel back up on the bar in the bathroom, assuming someone will gather it to launder later. 

The only path she knows in the house is the one she took to get up here. When she enters the kitchen again, there’s a man there with a tray of burgers in his hands. She sees immediately that Harry looks more like his dad than his mom. She’s never seen his dad this close up before.

“Allie?” he asks, and she nods her head. “You must be hungry.”

She knows she’s hungry, but she’s also too anxious to eat much. She tends to throw up when she forces herself just because she knows she should eat. (And she hates that for most of her life, she’s lived with enough anxiety and fear to know this about herself.)

He smiles, tells her to follow him. He asks her if she can grab the potato salad off the counter, and she does so. She thinks he’s kind. She doesn’t know what she was expecting. 

Everyone else is outside on the deck, beneath the covered area where there’s a full barbecue and range, and built in sink. Harry’s mom is pouring lemonade into fancy glasses from a matching pitcher and Poppy’s telling Harry about soccer, though he looks more annoyed than interested. Allie sets the salad down in the middle of the table, and sits at the open seat she assumes is for her. 

Karen squeezes Allie’s knee under the table. Harry cuts Poppy’s burger in half for her when his dad asks him to. She doesn’t say much as they eat, but neither does anyone else. Mostly because Poppy is a chatterbox (and always has been) and takes up most of the air time. At one point Harry tells her to shut up, but then gets a stern look and from his dad as he says his name, and Harry rolls his eyes. If Allie ever did that with her parents, she’d been in trouble. She’s not surprised Harry can get away with more. He’s always just sort of done what he wants. 

She helps clear the table, and everyone is being really nice to her, but she really, really wants to go home, or at least to her grandparents’ house. She’s grateful for the Binghams, but she hasn’t heard anything about Cassandra, or what’s happening, and what if she’s _dead_ , and what if the last time she saw her sister was this morning when Allie was grabbing an orange and running out the door, shouting her goodbye over her shoulder so she wouldn’t be late for her game. Her mind starts racing, and she feels tears spill over her cheeks, and she’s supposed to be helping Harry do the dishes. She’s frozen in place, this stupid towel in her hand as he washes, and then she feels like she can’t breathe. 

Harry looks at her, and then he looks scared, too. “Allie.” He says it sort of frantically, and it startles her. He grabs the towel from her hand and throws it onto the counter, takes her hand and pulls her down onto the floor so they’re both sitting down. Then he pushes her back hard, making her go forward, rubs circles and says something to her about breathing with him. 

It feels like forever until she’s calm again. And by calm, she means she feels like she can get air into her lungs, and her eyes aren’t welling over every time she blinks. 

“Sorry,” she mutters, and Harry’s hand is still on her back. She realizes she’s clutching the other one with one of hers, but can’t make herself let go. 

“It’s a panic attack,” he tells her, almost whispering, like it’s a secret. “I’ve...I get them, too. So does dad.”

As if on cue, Mr. Bingham is in the kitchen, kneeling down and looking at her, his hands on her face and turning it towards him. He presses his fingers against her wrist and waits a few moments, and he’s asking her how she’s feeling and if she’s okay. She just nods. She doesn’t answer the first question. She does, though, catch the look he gives Harry. It’s proud. Allie’s not sure she’s ever had a look like that directed at her. His hand goes out to grab Harry’s shoulder. Allie notices that Mr. Bingham’s wedding ring has a diamond in it. 

They get her to her feet and Harry makes a joke about her just trying to get out of doing the dishes, as Mr. Bingham leads her to the sofa and sits her down. 

“Your fingers are freezing,” he says, and then presses against her fingernail and looks at it right after. She’s just watching him. He laughs, finally. “I’m a doctor.”

Allie smiles, thinks she must be feeling better, because she makes the joke, “I think this is the most medical attention I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

Mr. Bingham chuckles. “Yeah, I gather you’re not the squeaky wheel of the family.”

Allie feels such a rush of affection for him. He’s not afraid to joke with her. He’s not chastising her for what she’s said. He’s not making her feel badly about it. She doesn’t know that she’s ever met someone who let her do that. 

He gets serious again, though, a moment later when he’s checking her pulse again. “Has this ever happened before?” Harry’s there, then, leaning his elbows on the back of the sofa. Allie shakes her head.

He goes on to give her some “free advice” he says, with a laugh. He tells her what to do if she ever feels herself getting to the same place. He tells her Harry can’t always be there to hold her hand and rub her back. She blushes and tries to listen hard, though when she catches Harry’s eye, he’s pink in the cheeks, too. 

She drinks some water, at his suggestion, and then Karen comes in, stops in her tracks when she sees both Harry and Mr. Bingham hovering by her. The adults have a whole conversation without words, just like Allie’s parents do sometimes. 

“Sweetheart, your grandparents can’t get home until tomorrow morning,” she says gently, and Allie, instead of being scared, just lets out a swoosh of breath. 

She’s used to being disappointed by now. 

(And it’s not their fault, she just really wants them here.)

Mr. Bingham suggests that she and Harry bike over to her place and ‘gather supplies’. That’s how Allie finds herself on Karen’s bike, her bag slung across her body, biking side by side on the road with Harry. At one point he takes his hands off his handlebars and runs them through his hair, then laughs when she swerves a bit because she’s not paying attention to what she’s doing. 

She unlocks the front door and they walk in, and in the kitchen, there’s still breakfast on the table, two spots, and a chair knocked over. It smells like scalded coffee, because the pot’s been left on all day and there’s just a little bit left in the carafe. 

She rushes into the kitchen to turn it off, and dumps the coffee down the drain, then clears the table and Harry’s saying her name and telling her to slow down. When she doesn’t listen, she hears him let out an annoyed breath and set the chair upright again. He scrapes oatmeal from Cassie’s bowl into the trash and helps her load the dishwasher. 

She takes a deep breath when it’s all done, and doesn’t know why she’s embarrassed. None of this is her fault. It’s not like her house is always like this. It’s not like Harry will judge her family for it. 

“You want a hug or something?” 

She’s nodding before she even actually considers an answer. Harry puts his arms carefully around her, and she brings hers up and around his sides. She thinks he smells like deodorant and the same shampoo she used earlier. He holds her pretty tightly, and she likes that. 

Maybe it’s what makes her finally say, “She just left me there.”

It’s a whisper and she isn’t even sure what she’s getting at, but it’s been bothering her all day. Her mom just...she just left. She left Allie stranded without telling her anything. She had enough thought to make sure someone could be there with her, but not enough to get Allie off the field and to the hospital. It makes her feel like she’s not even a priority for her own parents. It makes her feel like even when Cassie isn’t around, she comes first. 

“That’s fucked up,” Harry agrees, and Allie’s only really heard that word in movies and the one time her dad cut himself when a screwdriver slipped and caught the edge of his finger. 

Feeling rebellious and mad and _comforted_ , she says, “It _is_ fucked up.” 

Harry’s smiling when she pulls back. His eyelashes are really long and she’s never noticed before. Maybe because they’ve never been this close. 

She watches him close his eyes and then he leans in and his lips are pressing against hers, and this is her first kiss and her hands clench in fists at his back just before he pulls away. Her eyes search his face after and he lets out his breath. 

“We should get your stuff,” he says, and she just nods dumbly. 

She turned 13 three weeks ago, and this is the short period of the year that she and Cassie are the same age, and that means Harry probably is, too, and she wonders if he’s ever kissed anyone else. 

He sits on her bed and makes fun of her for her stuffed animals on the shelf in the corner as she tosses two changes of clothes and some pajamas into her bag. 

Allie likes that Harry is someone that has always been just hers. 

She falls asleep that night in the guest room from earlier, in a bed bigger than any bed she’s ever slept in, and in the morning, Mr. Bingham is making pancakes and eggs and sausage and Poppy wants to help set the table, and Allie laughs when the kid just throws a napkin on each plate and pushes glasses as far onto the table as her little arms will reach. 

“Your hair’s always such a disaster,” Harry laughs, and bats at it with his hand when he walks by. 

Allie furrows her brow and once he’s seated next to her, she pushes her hand into his hair and says, “You’re one to talk.”

Harry’s dad mutters, “Oh boy,” with a grin on his face, and everyone else sort of ignores it.


	2. Chapter 2

At the end of summer, just two weeks before school’s to start, Allie has a tournament in New Jersey and Cassandra is the one staying with their grandparents. She’s doing better, but their parents don’t want her in the heat for prolonged periods of time, and they want to make sure she’s as good as she can be before the school year. They’re already talking about her college, and needing scholarships, and Allie thinks all this is stupid, but she doesn’t say that. 

Allie’s jealous, or bothered, that Cassie will be staying in the spare room at the top of the stairs of their grandparents’ place. 

Allie’s come to think of it as _her_ room. It’s decorated how she wanted and still has some of her clothes in there. She knows there’s also a photo of her and Harry and Poppy from last summer and her grandpa took a Polaroid. It’s tucked into the edge of the mirror next to a picture of Allie and her grandma and grandpa when they went to play mini golf and get ice cream. Allie’s mugging for the camera and has chocolate ice cream at the corners of her mouth. 

When they get into the car to leave, they drive a few minutes before her mom reaches back and holds out a new iPhone with a navy blue case the same colour as Allie’s soccer uniform. 

She just says, “In case we need to reach you,” and what’s unspoken is that this is the answer to Allie’s crying fit she had a while back, when she was so angry and hurt that no one ever tells her what’s going on and she just has to wait around and hope no one’s dead. 

It’s the only time she’s ever been the one to really make her mom cry. She’s not even sorry about it. 

Her team wins the tournament, and when they’re home, Allie tucks the trophy onto the shelf in her room next to the other ones. Her phone dings on her bed and she picks it up. She’s given her number to Becca and Sam, and Becca’s been sending her random gifs she thinks are funny. 

_’Lame I had to get your number from your GRANDMA’_

_‘It’s Harry btw’_

Allie sits down on her bed, pulls her knees up and saves him in her phone before replying that she wanted to keep this number only for the cool kids. He sends the eye roll emoji and that’s all. 

… … …

Harry goes to high school at West Ham instead of the private school he’d have to bus an hour to. Allie isn’t sure how she didn’t know that before the first day of school, but the last few times she’s seen him it’s been a bit of a wild ride. 

The way she finds out is Cassandra comes home and tells her Harry is in her English class and then laughs when Allie stares at her, surprised. 

She texts him asking if he’s really at West Ham, and he replies that yeah, and it’s fine now, but he knows _’the vibe’s gonna go downhill when you show up’_. She doesn’t reply, so he sends the laughing emoji and Allie thinks it’s stupid that they text one another all the time but don’t hang out. 

She invites him to her next game. It’s one of her last of the season. He asks what’s in it for him, and she says she’ll think of something. 

(If she’s honest, she’s thinking about kissing him. She’s not going to _do_ that, because they’ve sort of ignored that it ever happened.)

… … …

Her grandparents - either one of them, or both of them - start taking her to practices and games every other weekend. Allie doesn’t mind. Her mom, for some reason, is overexplaining it, even though no one asked her to. 

“It’s just a lot, Allie,” she says as they come back from a Wednesday evening practice together. 

Allie says, “Okay,” and wonders if it’s just normal to feel like a burden. 

… … ...

For Halloween, Cassie somehow convinces their parents to let her have a party. And Allie is allowed to invite people, too, so she has Becca and Sam and her friend Will, who just moved here. She invites Harry, but Cassandra seems to not like that much. Allie doesn’t care. 

Allie and Becca go as Serena and Blair from Gossip Girl. They get plaid skirts and ties from the second hand store, and some sparkly jewelry. Becca’s mom laughs at them while they’re sorting out their costumes, lends Allie a pair of heels, and lets Becca wear a couple pieces of costume jewelry. They borrow headbands from Cassandra, and Allie’s really pleased that people know who they are immediately. It’s kind of her favourite. 

Her dad dresses as an FBI agent, she thinks just to embarrass her and Cassie, and also to make sure no one brings in anything they shouldn’t. Her mom replenishes the chip bowls way too often and makes sure there are enough coasters, even though they never use coasters in this house.

Allie’s sipping sparkling water when Harry walks in wearing pale pink shorts, a pale pink button down shirt, and loafers on his feet. She smiles behind her cup as he says hi to people he knows. It’s sort of weird that he’s her friend - that she’s the one who invited him - but he obviously knows the people Cassandra invited, too.

He finally walks over after about 40 minutes. Sam, who’s dressed as Hawkeye, smiles and waves, and walks away before she can introduce him. 

“What’s this?” Allie asks, and Harry looks offended. He moves so his feet are hip width apart and then clasps his hands in front of his stomach. Allie can’t help herself - she laughs her ass off to the point that he rolls his eyes and then leans his hip against the counter so he’s facing her. He came as a meme? “This isn’t even a costume! You just look like an asshole preppy guy!” Harry grins, tosses a grape into his mouth off the fruit tray her mom insisted they have and barely anyone’s touching. “Worst costume here, by a mile.”

He waits a beat, reaches out and tugs at one of the necklaces that’s hanging down her front before letting it go and looking back at her face. 

“We could say I’m the Nate to your Serena.”

Allie feels her cheeks heating up, and butterflies in her stomach. She can tell he’s waiting for a response. 

“I can’t believe you know the characters,” she says, shaking her head, and Harry lets out a dramatic sigh and turns, mirroring her so they’re both leaning back against the counter. He crosses his arms. 

She asks about Poppy’s costume and laughs when he tells her the kid’s a ladybug again, for the third year in a row. 

… … …

Allie begs her mom to bend their ‘no social media’ rule because all the other girls on the team have Instagram and someone tells her that this is one way scouts use to keep tabs on people coming up through the ranks. Cassandra designates herself Allie’s official photographer, and starts coming to all her practices through the winter, as long as she doesn’t have too much homework or her own extracurriculars. She’s on the debate team and the school newspaper. She wants to get into student government next year, too. 

She takes and posts videos of Allie doing drills or in games. One morning when the light is good in her bedroom, Allie takes a picture of all her trophies and medals. She gets new cleats and she and Cassandra laugh way too hard and take way too long setting up a shot on the turf on the sidelines before a practice. Their team gets a dietician who gets them all sorted with smoothie deliveries and apparently part of the deal is that they have to promote on social media. 

In January, she’s in her warmup gear at the practice facility and her teammate did double dutch braids going down Allie’s back. She turns her head just a little and the lights bounce off the apple of her cheek. The post gets over 100 likes. 

Harry texts her asking if she’s still gonna be his friend now that she’s Instagram famous.

She teases him, asking what gave him the impression they’re friends now. 

Her phone rings that night and it's his name on the screen. She thinks her mom doesn’t like that she can talk to people whenever she wants, now, but Allie doesn’t actually care. 

“We should hang out,” he says, after he’s asked how practice was and she’s answered. She doesn’t know what to say. She knows what she _wants_ to say. “If you want.”

She’s telling the truth when she says, “My dad’ll think it’s a date and get all weird.”

Harry scoffs. “It’s not a date,” he says, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world that they’d date each other, or that he’d _want_ to date her. 

She hates that it hurts her feelings. Why did she expect anything different?

“Movie?” she asks instead of pressing him about why he’d say it like that. 

“Yeah, next weekend.”

After practice on Saturday, she comes home and cleans up, and her mom drives her to the theatre and Harry’s waiting outside. He smiles when he sees her, and waves at her mom, who rolls down the window on Allie’s side of the car. 

Allie’s mom looks at her as if she’s really got to think about whether or not to let her out and drive away. It makes Allie uncomfortable. She wants to scream that this isn’t a _date_. She’s been trying to convince everyone in her house of this for a week. It’s annoying her. 

“Your dad will pick you up and bring her home?” her mom presses, and Harry smiles when he sees Allie roll her eyes when her mom isn’t looking. He nods. “Have fun. Be responsible.”

Allie’s blushing as her mom pulls away. Harry’s grinning at her and she knows he’s about to say something snarky. 

“They think it’s a date.” 

“I told you!” she laughs, and he pushes at his hair. 

They fight over the armrest and he calls her impossible and says something about her being stubborn, as if he hasn’t known that since they were little. He talks throughout the previews, which is annoying, and then she realizes he’s absolutely doing it just to bug her. So she stops responding completely and just sees from the corner of her eye that he’s really enjoying needling her this way. He stage whispers, “It’s starting,” as the lights go down and she’s laughing when she tells him to shut up. 

Once it’s dark, Harry’s hand finds hers and her heart races. She’s almost afraid to move. She likes it, the way his palm presses against hers. The way his fingers fit together with hers. The way sometimes he moves his thumb. He pulls it away during the first big action scene and then smiles at her when she looks over at him. She wonders why he stopped. She wonders if he’ll come back. He doesn’t, until the end of the movie, when one of the main characters dies, and Allie’s sad and pissed that it’s one of the women and not the guy who’s been useless basically this whole time. Harry’s hand is back and pressing into hers, squeezing twice. 

He pulls away before the lights go up, and he’s still slouched in his seat when she stands up and stretches her arms over her head. 

“What’d you think of the end?” she asks, and he presses his lips together, then stands up, facing her. 

“You ever notice how the girl always gets in shit and they make it seem like the guy saves the day?” Allie smiles, and without really thinking, throws her arms around his neck. He laughs a little, but hugs her back and then moves his hands to her hips. No one’s ever really touched her there before. His hands fall away and she puts more space between them. “Just seems like the person who does the work should get rewarded.”

Allie starts walking towards the aisle and says, “I think so, too.”

His dad pulls her into a side armed hug when he picks them up, tells her it’s good to see her and he was starting to think she was avoiding him. It’s the kind of thing her own dad would say and Harry looks almost embarrassed, or something. 

“Who wants Dairy Queen?” he asks, and Harry gets into the back seat with her, which she sort of likes. “Could use a dip cone, myself.”

Allie doesn’t say anything about it being January, because she’s always sort of thought it doesn’t matter what time of year it is - ice cream is always a reasonable snack. It also reminds her of one time in the summer, after she’d met him and had a panic attack and ended up hanging out in their backyard a little bit with her grandma, and Mr. Bingham (he’s made her start calling him James) brought home an ice cream cake ‘just because he wanted to’ and Karen had rolled her eyes and called him crazy, but leaned up to kiss him anyway.

They slide into a booth with their treats, and Harry presses his knee against hers even though his dad is right across from them. He wants to hear about the movie and asks them what feels like really thoughtful questions about the characters and their motivations. She steals a bite of Harry’s M&M’s Blizzard. She’s Reese’s all the way, but she sort of wishes she could have half and half. 

“I don’t like peanut butter and chocolate together,” Harry confesses, and Allie looks at him like he’s insane. “All for you.”

Allie catches the little grin his dad wears as he sits across from them. 

When he drops her off at her house, he says, “If your parents say anything about the ice cream, tell them it’s fine. I’m a doctor.”

Harry groans, “Dad, that joke is not ever funny,” as he gets out and switches to the front seat. “See ya.” 

Allie’s laughing out, “Bye,” and her dad pulls open the door, waves at James before he starts backing out of the driveway.

… … …

She sprains her ankle in a game in June and is so mad at herself she doesn’t talk to anyone in her house for two days, other than the bare minimum so her mom doesn’t call her rude. It’s the end of the year, and she’s only got one more final test left to take. It’s on Wednesday. She’s getting used to her crutches and her mom tells her she can stay home on Monday to rest and study. She asks if she can go to her grandparents’, and her grandpa comes to get her after breakfast, helps her into the car and puts her crutches in the back. 

She studies at the kitchen table, then moves to the living room. She props her foot up on the ottoman and reviews her history notes, trying to memorize dates she’s highlighted and remember what Cassie told her this teacher put on the test last year. He’d already warned her the test would be different, but he can’t like, literally change history, so she assumes there must be some overlap. 

Her grandma makes grilled cheese with a salad for lunch, and then tells Allie to come outside and keep her company while she ‘sorts out the flower beds’. 

Allie basically sits on the grass soaking up sun and hoping her nose doesn’t burn, chatting with her grandma and wishing she could be more help. But it’s a good distraction from worrying what this’ll mean for her soccer season, and if it’ll go on her scouting record, and wanting to talk to her coach about her spot in the lineup. 

James drives by in that black car that usually sits in the garage. He parks it in his drive and then walks down the street towards them. He’s wearing a shirt and tie, and she thinks it’s a little funny she’s never actually seen him dressed like this before.

“Miss Pressman,” he greets her, and Allie waves. He grins - the same way Harry does - and shakes his head, pointing to grandma. “I was talking to the young lady.”

Allie laughs. She never really understood what the word charming meant, but she thinks James fits the description.

“Stop it,” her grandma says, and takes his hand when he reaches down to help her to her feet. 

He looks at Allie’s ankle, leans down and takes a look, she thinks, at how it’s wrapped. “I thought you were supposed to be the easy one,” he says, and Allie forces a smile. That feels a little too close to home. It’s true. They’ve had a similar conversation before. “Soccer?”

Allie nods. “Run in with a mid-fielder. She slid for the ball and was coming straight for me, so I jumped out of the way, and came down sideways.”

James rests his elbow on his knee. “What’d you go and do that for?” he teases. This is the first time she’s felt okay with talking about it, let alone jokes. “I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll leave a note for Harry to come by.”

Grandma laughs softly and says, “I’m not sure he’ll need prompting, James.”

Allie stops herself from reading too much into the way James says, “Right,” on a chuckle.

Harry comes by, slouches on the sofa and quizzes her for her history test, teasing her when she gets things wrong, then helping her come up with memory tricks. 

… … …

“What do you want for your birthday?” he asks, and she laughs because he’s got two days to figure something out. They’re in his pool. He’s leaning against the wall and she’s walking in the water from one side of the pool to the other because someone said it’ll be good for her foot. 

“Jewelry,” she says with a smile, looking down at her legs through the water. 

He goes, “Okay, Allie,” like she’s being annoying, but still helps her with her crutches when she’s getting out of the pool.

… … …

On her birthday it’s sort of an open door policy. Her grandparents are there all day, and her friends stop in. Becca brings her a really beautiful framed print she says she got on Etsy. Sam and his parents bring flowers and a card with $100 in it, and a Nike gift card. Cassie gets her a really pretty sundress and a book on how to braid hair, and Allie tries not to think it’s because Cassandra’s sick of having to do it. Their parents give her a whole bunch of stuff, including the fitness tracker she’s been asking for. 

Harry comes by after dinner, after her grandparents have left. He barely says hi to Cassandra - and Allie knows those two have some serious competition going for grades and popularity. Allie offers him a piece of cake and cuts herself a second piece, too. They take them up to her room and she leaves the door open, because she knows the rules and he does, too; he’s been here enough. 

He hands her an envelope and there’s a card in there with more $20 bills than she was expecting, signed ‘James, Karen, and Penelope’ in Karen’s neat handwriting.

He pulls a little navy blue box out of his back pocket, says, “Happy birthday, Allie,” and she’s smiling when she takes the box from him. 

She opens the box without commenting that it’s not even wrapped. Inside, there’s a gold necklace with a star in the centre. It’s so delicate and so pretty and she thinks it’s maybe the nicest piece of jewelry she has. And she thinks, too, it’s a little inside joke because he calls her a soccer star sometimes when he wants to tease her.

Allie blinks fast because she thinks there are tears in her eyes. Harry’s sort of gently smiling at her when she looks at him, and she thinks she’s never liked him more than she does this second. 

She puts her hand on his cheek and leans over, presses her lips to his. 

He’s smiling down at his lap when she asks him if he’ll fasten the necklace for her. 

She tells him she was joking about the jewelry. 

She feels his breath on her ear when he says, “I’d already bought it.”

… … …

Her foot’s totally healed just in time for the team to finally have a tournament close enough to home that she can invite people to come and genuinely hope they can make it. Becca and Sam are working on a poster, she thinks. Will says he’ll come by and asks her team’s colours so he can wear something to match. Her grandparents are more excited than anyone, she thinks. When she’s sitting in the Bingham’s kitchen and James and Karen are playfully arguing over which bottle of wine to open with dinner, she says something to Harry about painting his face with her jersey number. James tells her the Binghams will lead the cheering section and Karen says something about not counting Allie’s family out. 

“Nope. I’m loud and I don’t care if I embarrass myself.” Allie hides her grin by looking downward and presses her lips together when she hears Poppy ask Harry if he’ll paint her face, too.

Her group of people does cheer the loudest. Harry and his mom are the most subdued, probably. Becca’s and Sam’s signs are absolutely ridiculous and covered in as much glitter as they could get onto poster board. Immediately after the anthem, James yells, “Go Allie. Woo!” as soon as the music stops. 

She scores all three of her team’s goals, and it’s her first hat trick since she was like, seven. She’s laughing as her team celebrates and jumps, and she’s in the centre of the group, trying to also make sure she doesn’t get an elbow in the face, or something. 

Everyone’s waiting just outside the locker room when she walks out, her bag over her shoulder and hair soaking her shirt down her back. They all start cheering when they see her, which makes her cheeks burn. James starts a chant of her name, and Poppy joins in. Harry covers his face with his hand and Allie watches him sigh. 

The final is tomorrow. They’ve never won this tournament and Allie feels a knot in her stomach. The Binghams invited everyone for dinner and started planning all that last week, so James is doing chicken and ribs on the barbecue and Allie’s sitting at the side of the pool with her feet in and Cassandra is next to her. 

Harry comes up behind her, leans down and puts his hands on her shoulders and makes like he’s going to push her in. 

“Don’t you dare!” she shrieks, grabbing onto his wrists. He laughs and sits down next to her, his hip pressed against hers. Cassie gets up, then, and walks away. 

“Something I said?” he mutters, and he hasn’t said anything. Allie is always annoyed by how Cassandra reacts to him, but she’s also a little annoyed by how he needles at her sister, too. “You were really awesome.”

“I know,” she says, and it makes him smile. “Now will you stop teasing me?”

He grins. “No.” Yeah, she didn’t honestly think so. She looks at her toenails in the water. They’re bright pink. She hates the colour, actually. Maybe she’ll redo them tomorrow. “What’s it like to be that good at something?”

Allie glances over at him because that sounded _sad_ , and he’s not making eye contact. It’s not like she’s never seen him emotional or upset or scared, or whatever. But this...She thinks this is insecurity, and she isn’t used to it. 

“This, coming from the smartest person I know?” she asks, and watches his lips twitch. He kicks one leg beneath the water. “Harry, you’re good at _everything_. It’s like, actually annoying.”

He pauses. “You think I’m the smartest person you know?” She shrugs. “Smarter than Cassandra.”

Shit.

She whispers. “Don’t say anything.”

He whispers. “I’m good with secrets.”

They look at each other too long. Poppy swims by, splashing water at them and making them laugh. 

… … …

She goes school shopping with Becca. Well, clothes shopping. Her dad takes her to Staples and is _way too excited_ to follow her down the aisles and fill the cart with a bunch of the things on her list, a few things that aren’t, and some things for his own office. Her mom usually takes her for some new clothes, but Cassandra went shopping last year with Bean, and so they say something about this now being the tradition. Her mom gives her a budget and tells her to be reasonable and not buy anything inappropriate for school. Allie doesn’t think she’s ever considered buying anything anyone would call inappropriate.

She and Becca stop for Chipotle for lunch, bags nestled by their feet at the table, and Becca’s pushing her food around in her bowl. 

“Did you only invite me because Harry’s on vacation?”

Allie blinks, freezes, and stares at her friend. Becca finally looks up at her. “What? No. Oh, my god.”

Becca shrugs. “Your mom said you could shop with your best friend, right? I think he’s yours.”

Alli presses her nails into her palm against her thigh. “You’re my best friend.” It doesn’t feel like a _lie_ , but it feels like maybe she should have said that Becca is her best friend, _too_. 

Harry’s family is at Disney because Poppy wanted to go. Harry says he’s been twice before and tries to sound bored that this is the family vacation, but he also smiled at how excited his little sister is, and told Allie to shut up when she laughed when he showed her the family Disney shirts his mom got and he said he’d wear. 

Allie never even considered asking him to shop with her. 

“I don’t really care about Harry’s opinion on what I wear.”

Becca lets out a laugh, then covers her mouth. “Either you’re a liar, or you’re the only girl in West Ham who feels that way.” Allie can’t think of a response to that. Becca shrugs her shoulder. “Then again, you’ve never had to worry whether or not you had his attention.”

Allie doesn’t say anything. She’s not stupid. Harry is really cute, and she knows girls like him. She knows he’s popular. She’s heard girls talking about him. God, the girls on her team practically squeal every time he goes to one of her games. They all ask if she’s dating him and she’s gotten tired of explaining that they’re friends. 

“It’ll be weird to see him at school,” she says, and Becca rolls her eyes, but lets Allie get away with pivoting the conversation.

Becca convinces her to buy a black bra with lace at the back, and sing songs that it seems like something Harry would be into. Allie is embarrassed and feels too young for this kind of conversation. She takes the bag when the sales associate hands it to her and hisses at Becca to _stop_. 

That night, she’s thinking of the times she and Harry have kissed, and she doesn’t think of kissing anyone else, and she feels really, really not good when she thinks of Harry kissing other people. 

She’s wearing her new bra, a black tank top and denim shorts and she’s walking with him once he’s back from vacation. Somehow, his skin is more tanned than when he left - more tanned than hers - even though the two of them have spent most of their summer outside together, and she had a two hour practice the other day and a game last Saturday.

She asks, “Am I your best friend?” out of nowhere, and Harry slings his arm around her shoulder as they walk along the path through the park. 

“So what if you are?” he asks, and it’s casual, teasing. 

Allie puts her arm around his waist and says, “Okay.”

When there’s no one around, he presses a kiss into her temple and her fingers dig into his side. 

Softly, she shares, “Do you think other best friends kiss sometimes?” and is terrified to hear his answer. 

He shrugs. “Who says we need to be like anyone else?”

Allie smiles, leans her head on his shoulder, and listens to his breathing.

… … …

At lunch on the first day of school, after freshmen orientation and two of her four classes - English and geography - she’s sitting with her friends in the cafeteria and she sees Harry walk in and come towards her. He sits down, straddling the bench, his legs bracketing her a bit, and tugs at a lock of her hair. 

“Couldn’t even manage to run a brush through this mane for the first day of school huh?”

Allie pulls away, her eyes flicking up to his own hair. He grins at her and then turns to say hi to everyone else. She asks him where his lunch is, and he pulls a $10 bill out of his pocket. Allie rolls her eyes. Of course. 

“Enjoy this sad salad,” he says, peering into her resealable dish. It’s _good_ , but she doesn’t want to argue. “See ya, Allie.”

“Bye, loser.”

Harry’s laughing as he gets up and walks away. She sees him again when he goes to sit down at a table with a bunch of football players. She’s not surprised or bothered. 

Becca’s wearing a little smile Allie needs to ignore.

… … …

It turns out she’s got all her classes with Will. He sits next to her in chemistry and in math. Allie asks him why their semester is so freaking hard, and he puts his head in his hands and agrees. He calls her one night when he’s struggling through his chem homework, and she does her best to help him through it. It’s coming sort of naturally to her, but she’s not judging him. 

Allie reads The Merchant of Venice in the car on the way to soccer because her mom has made it abundantly clear that the only way she’ll continue to be able to play soccer outside of the school team is if her grades don’t suffer. Cassandra offers her notes, but Allie wants to do it on her own. Her dad says he’s proud of her when she says that. Allie’s braiding her hair and talking to her dad about what’s happening in the play. He tells her to explain it to him like he’s never read it. 

She sees him flipping through the play while she practices, when she comes off for water between drills and her coach isn’t talking directly to her. 

She gets a C on her essay and manages to keep herself from crying until she’s between classes and can get to a washroom. She’s rushing to get to the door and runs into Harry, who puts his hands on her arms and looks at her like he’s worried. 

“What...Is Cass…”

Allie shakes her head hard, though it breaks her heart that it’s a reality that he’d jump to that conclusion. 

“I got a C.” He blinks at her, then pulls her out of the way of the door and against the bank of lockers. “I tried so hard.”

“It’s okay. It’s like, the first assignment of the year.”

She wipes at her tears quickly, and, to calm herself, focuses on the way his thumbs are moving back and forth on her shoulders. She’s thankful he’s here. This felt like a panic attack in the making, and she’s only ever had two of those.

“You don’t get it. You’re fucking brilliant.” Harry blinks. She doesn’t usually swear. “I’m Cassandra’s idiot, jock sister.”

His face screws up like she’s talking nonsense. “You’re not stupid because something’s hard,” he tells her. She wonders if he’s said it before. Maybe he’s thought it. “I can help you.” She opens her mouth, but he stops her. “Let me help you.” 

She thinks about it, looks into his eyes and nods her head. God, she thinks there are already rumours about them, or speculation, or people talking shit. Now they’re standing here and touching and she’s crying and looking at him like this and they’re standing close. Maybe she should care more about what people think. 

She’s realized that someone thinking she’s dating Harry Bingham is really not the worst thing they could say about her. 

She says, “Fine,” and he gives her a smile. “But only because my mom’ll make me quit the team if I stay stupid.”

“Allie,” he groans, pulling his hands away. She laughs. 

She’s sitting at the kitchen table at his house and he’s helping her with this make up assignment, because he also told her that Mrs. Clay is really open to letting people do extra credit. When she asked, Mrs. Clay agreed really easily. 

James is in the kitchen making dinner, wearing a Princeton sweatshirt and jeans. Harry asks Allie a question about the text and James holds up a sweet potato and says, in literally the worst British accent she’s ever heard, “To be or not to be?”

Harry’s head tips back as he says, “Oh my _god_ , dad.”

Allie’s laughing at the both of them.

… … …

(She gets an A on her assignment. 

The way Harry says, “You owe me,” makes her blush, which makes him look at her lips.)

… … …

Cassandra didn’t come to his party, despite the fact that she was invited. She said something about it being a bad idea for him to have a party when his parents were away. But she also promised not to tell their parents there’d be no supervision, and laughed at Allie for thinking for a single second their grandparents won’t know exactly what’s going on.

Whatever. 

Allie pulls on jeans and a black sweater, follows a YouTube tutorial to curl her hair with Cassandra’s flatiron, and steals some of her mom’s highlighter. 

Helena Wu is the first person Allie sees when she shows up. She knows Helena, because the girl used to play soccer. Well, she played soccer for a season and then stopped. Allie never knew why and doesn’t still. Helena’s on debate with Cassie, too, so Allie’s seen her at competitions. 

“You look cute,” Helena says, smiling. She’s wearing a plaid dress, her cross necklace sparkling under the light of the chandelier in the Bingham’s foyer. “Some of the guys are already drunk.”

It sounds like a warning, which makes a lot of sense. Allie puts her hands in her back pockets. “Do you know where Harry is?”

Helena smiles like she was expecting it, or something. “I saw him in the kitchen.”

“Are you waiting for someone?” Helena shrugs, but there’s a little glint in her eye as she looks past Allie. Allie turns around and sees Grizz Visser smiling in their direction. Allie smiles, says, “Gotcha,” and winks dramatically, which makes Helena laugh. 

When Allie walks into the kitchen, dodging an elbow from someone talking animatedly, she sees Harry sitting atop the counter with a beer between his thighs. He’s talking to Luke and they both smile when they see her, which sparks something in her that feels a little too good. 

“You look great,” Luke says as she approaches. Harry sips his beer. 

“Yeah,” he says, reaching out to touch her hair at her forehead. “Pretty honoured you finally did something with this just to come to my house.”

“Shut up.” She bats his hand away and reaches for his beer from between his legs. Harry blinks slowly.

“I could get you your own.” Allie takes a sip. She knows she doesn’t like beer, because Harry’s mom, just once, in the summer, let them have a few sips. Harry didn’t like it, either, but here they are. She gives it back to him. 

They chat a bit, about football and soccer and Harry says he’s going to audition for the school play. Allie’s surprised, because he hasn’t mentioned this even to her, and he’s saying it in front of Luke and now Jason as well. Allie knows Cassie’s in drama club this year, and she’ll definitely be part of the production. She doesn’t want to think about the two of them trying to work together, because typically they just _don’t_.

Jason says something about Clark stripping down in the backyard to get into the pool, and Harry mumbles a curse as Luke laughs. Harry hops down off the counter and follows Jason towards the back door. 

The party sort of goes on around them, and Luke’s asking her more about her team, and how long she’s been playing, and it’s sort of nice to be around another human who’s as into a sport as she is. He tells her he’s been playing football since he was four, and pulls out his phone to show her a picture of him as a kid in flag football gear, a football tucked under his arm. Allie shows him one of her from this past summer - it’s an action shot Sam took, with her hair flying behind her and the muscles of her thigh defined as she goes to strike the ball. It’s her favourite picture of herself.

Luke’s arm is pressed against hers and they’re sitting on the sofa, and she’s been here for well over an hour just talking to him. He’s nice. Cassandra always said so, and Allie thought he seemed like a good guy the few times she met him. She likes the way he listens when she talks. 

They eventually go outside, where Harry’s now lounging on the pool furniture with some other people. She appreciates that he hasn’t been babying her all night. It’s dark out, now, and a few more people are a little tipsy. She thinks Harry’s just had these two drinks. She knows exactly how much shit he’d be in if anything got broken or if his parents found out about the underage drinking. To Cassandra’s earlier point, it’s stupid to think they won’t learn of it anyway. Allie thinks he just knows better than to throw a massive, messy party and not be able to tell the truth when he says things didn’t get out of hand. 

She sits down next to Luke, and Harry’s lying back on a lounge chair. Helena, Grizz and Gwen are laughing at something on Gwen’s phone. 

Luke puts his arm behind her, so it’s brushing her back as he rests it on the chair. 

Another hour goes by and she laughs at something he says, and Luke smiles, takes her chin in his hand and leans over to press a little kiss to her lips. 

She knows she’s blushing when he pulls away. She smiles at him but tries not to feel awkward and uncomfortable that they’re around all these people - all of whom are older than her and some of whom are her friends. 

Harry’s just staring at her. 

Everyone leaves, and then it’s just her and Harry. He’d promised he’d walk her home. It’s nearly midnight, and they’re pretty quiet as they walk past her grandparents’ house. 

“I didn’t like that,” he finally says, and Allie doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “You and Luke.” Allie wonders if he’s going to say more. There’s a long silence, then, “Did you?”

She thinks about it for a second, shrugs her shoulder. “I guess? I wasn’t expecting… It kind of surprised me.” Harry’s looking at his feet. It’s quiet in their little town. They turn to cut through the park like they always do.

“Well. What’d you like more? Kissing him or kissing me?”

Allie grins mischievously. “Maybe I just like kissing.”

“Allie,” he pleads gently. He stops walking near the big willow she loves in summer time.

She bites the corner of her lip. “Are you saying you wanna kiss me?”

Harry reaches out, plays with one of her curls. “What if I do?”

She looks at his mouth, then reaches for his hand. “Harry, you...” she stops herself before telling him he can kiss her whenever he wants. “You can.”

And this kiss is different. Not just because it’s a french kiss, and Harry’s hands are on her, touching her more gently than maybe he touches anything. And not just because they’re completely alone and it’s mostly dark and totally quiet. It’s different because she _does_ have more feelings for him than she does for Luke. Obviously she does. She feels this kiss fill her chest and she finds she loves the sensation. She likes the way it makes her feel like she can do anything - that there’s no way to touch him that’s wrong or too much or confusing. 

When he pulls away, it’s just to press his forehead against hers and she realizes her arms are up around his neck. She moves them a little, settling her hands on his shoulders. 

“You look really pretty tonight.”

Allie grins, and they turn to continue walking, though now his arm is around her shoulder. “You just like my hair.”

Harry chuckles, leans over and whispers, “I always like your hair.”

Allie doesn’t reply.

She’s exhausted for soccer practice the next day, which she knew she would be and pushes through anyway. Monday at school, Harry says hey to her in the hallway, then teases her in the cafeteria when he sees she chose the vegetarian soup in the caf, not the fries and fish sticks. He gets up and goes to another table, and so Allie figures nothing has really changed, except now she’s kissed two boys instead of just the one. She tries not to let it sting.


	3. Chapter 3

Cassie has a debate out of town, which means Harry does, too. They barely get along, but somehow manage to fight _together_ really well. The competition is at Columbia, and Cassie is excited to spend time in the city again, reminisces about the summer she spent there, as if it wasn’t just because she was sick and needed a special treatment Allie still doesn’t understand. 

Allie’s staying with her grandparents, and she’s super excited about it, actually. It’s been a while, and she’s flooded with nostalgia and warmth at the thought of spending a whole weekend with just them. Her grandma said something about Allie helping her make some squares to freeze so she can pull them out for holidays, and Allie’s all for it. 

And she can’t go to New York because she’s got her Saturday practice and a game on Sunday. She’d considered skipping, because she’s only missed one practice all year, and that was because she had a headache so bad she could barely get out of bed to shower. But they’re playing a team they’re neck and neck with in the standings, and Allie knows how good she is, okay? She knows the team relies on her in pressure situations, and she really, really doesn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to show leadership.

Cassandra and their parents are leaving Friday morning. Allie’s already packed, and their parents are going to drop off her stuff before heading out of town. She’s finished her homework, too, so she wanders into Cassie’s bedroom and flops down on the bed, her phone in hand. 

“Green or blue?” 

Allie glances up from her phone - she’s texting Becca, who’s talking about how hot some celebrity is. Cassie is holding up two button down shirts. They’re practically the same. Allie points to the blue one. 

“You know, I’m kind of excited to spend time with just mom and dad,” she says, and Allie’s hackles rise. She watches Cassandra fold the shirt and tuck it into her rolling suitcase. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Allie clenches her teeth. She’s more annoyed with her sister than maybe she’s ever been. It’s just completely insane that Cassandra thinks she’s ever for a goddamn second lacked attention from their parents. Sometimes when it’s the four of them, Allie feels invisible. She’s not blind, okay? Her parents value academics more than they value athletics. The fact that Cassandra’s grades are what they are and she excels at debate and all that stuff Allie really doesn’t have much interest in… It’s not lost on Allie that they seem to treat soccer like a hindrance, like something that gets in the way of Allie being more like her sister.

Instead of saying any of that, she just goes, “I’m sure it’ll be fun,” and then convinces Cassandra not to take this yellow cardigan she has that Allie can’t stand. 

When she goes back into her room and closes the door, she’s still thinking of Cassie’s comment and how _rude_ she thinks it is. 

She types out a text to Harry that’s mean in which she’s calling her sister a bitch, but she deletes it instead of hitting send. He’d understand. He’d agree. He’d listen to her. She doesn’t want to give him a reason to think he can talk poorly about Cassandra, though. So she pulls up YouTube and watches some trick shot compilations to calm herself down. 

Saturday after practice, when she’s in the back seat of her grandparents’ car and checking her phone for the first time in hours, she sees that Harry’s sent her a picture. It’s a selfie in which he’s grinning for the camera and Cassandra stands behind him, looking super annoyed. 

Allie laughs, shows her grandma the photo, and types out, _’I’ve never seen a truer representation of your relationship. Put this in the Louvre.’_

Harry sends back the camera emoji. When she checks his Instagram, she sees he’s posted a photo of himself outside in front of some fancy buildings at Columbia. The caption says that Cassie took the photo, and, _’Proof that even my enemies can’t make me look bad’_.

Allie ignores the pang of jealousy she feels. 

… … …

Her whole family is invited to the Bingham’s New Years Eve party, and Allie, Cassie and their mom go shopping for dresses. Cassandra buys the first dress she tries on, a pretty red sheath dress she insists she’ll be able to wear again and comments on all the ways she could dress it up or down. Allie’s noticed this is a thing their mom does, too. It’s like they have to justify their purchases, or something. Like spending $80 on a dress just because you need it for an occasion isn’t a good enough reason. Their mom gets a plain black dress from Ann Taylor that has a little ruffle at the bottom, and then buys a bracelet she decides she has to have. 

Allie’s very aware that she’s the one who takes the longest. She tries on a bunch of different things, but doesn’t like the way some of them look. She finds the cuts aren’t flattering, or make her legs look massive. She’s not super vain, but she also doesn’t want to get anything, ever, that she doesn’t feel good in. 

Her mom tilts her head disapprovingly when Allie reaches for a short, champagne coloured dress with delicate beading at the neck and a low cut back. She softens when Cassandra says, “I think it’s pretty,” and Allie ignores that her mom obviously cares so much about what her sister thinks.

As soon as she walks out of the fitting room, she sees a little smile on her mom’s face, and Allie leaves the store with the dress wrapped in tissue and Cassandra asking if they can stop at Starbucks before going home. 

The night of the party, Cassandra helps her pin half of her hair back, and Allie borrows the expensive lip gloss her sister got on her trip to New York. Allie loans Cassie a silver necklace. Cassandra stares at Allie’s choice of jewelry.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks, pointing at the star sitting against Allie’s skin. 

Touching the star, she replies, “Yes,” and hopes it implies there’s really no room for argument.

Everyone their age hangs out in the rec room, where there are multiple games set up that mostly go ignored. Luke is here, and so is Helena. And Grizz. Basically, all the rich kids’ families, Allie notices. There are snacks set out along the sideboard, and Allie eats more chips and salsa than she should allow herself. There are mini cheesecakes, too, but she limits herself to just one. Harry’s mom said there’s a bit of champagne for all of them, and that she cleared it with all the parents ahead of time; James will come in and pour at 15 minutes to midnight. 

Allie’s standing and watching Grizz and Harry play pool. It’s not that she and Harry haven’t talked tonight at all, but it’s a party, so they’ve been talking to other people, or as a big group. She thinks he looks really hot in this black shirt and black pants. He’s not wearing a tie, and his shirt doesn’t even really have a collar. There’s a little button right by his throat. When she was sitting next to him earlier, she noticed it was an elaborate silver rose. 

He stands next to her, where she’s leaning against the wall. His pool cue is in his hand and he leans right over, turns his head to speak in her ear and Allie’s eyes glance around for anyone who might be witnessing this. Luke and Cassandra are the only ones. Cassandra looks away when Allie’s eyes pass hers. 

“You look super hot,” he tells her, and Allie feels frozen in place. “Kiss me at midnight?”

It sounds like a request, not a demand. She likes that, but she’s terrified or maybe embarrassed by the idea of kissing him in front of their friends. In front of her sister. 

There’s a glass in her hand as they do the countdown, then Harry’s arm’s around her and she puts hers around his, too. He’s counting down, but it’s quiet, like he wants just her to hear it. He presses her closer to him, and she’s smiling when she feels her hip tight against his. He presses their lips together, and Allie counts to three before she pulls away. Harry looks happy. Looks content. Looks like he wants to keep kissing her. 

Cassandra comes over and they kiss each other on the cheek, and then they’re all singing that stupid song you sing, or whatever. 

Harry murmurs, “Happy New Year, Allie,” in her ear. Allie drinks the last of her champagne too fast and challenges Grizz to a game of Connect Four. 

… … …

Opening night of the school play, she volunteers to babysit Poppy so Harry’s parents can go watch him. 

It’s also so she doesn’t have to see the whole thing again. Cassandra convinced her to help source props, so she was sometimes building sets and whatever when rehearsals were going on. She kind of hated it, but Cassandra seemed really happy that Allie was involved. And for two people who dislike each other so much, Harry and Cassandra seem to work well together. Anyway, she watched the whole thing through during their two dress rehearsals yesterday and the day before, and she doesn’t really feel the need to see it again. 

She and Poppy order Chinese food and watch the original Beauty and the Beast because it’s both of their favourites. Poppy shows Allie where the popsicles are hidden in the chest freezer in the garage, and Allie lets the girl think they’re ‘sneaking’ them, though Karen gave Allie the same information via text yesterday evening. It’s too cold to swim, but not too cold to be outside. She and Poppy sit on the Bingham’s big back lawn, watching the sky turn pink, and eating popsicles. 

She gets Poppy all tucked into bed, reads her a story and tugs the door most of the way closed when she leaves the room. Allie’s reading a book she found in Harry’s room, curled up on the sofa with a blanket over her lap, when the family comes in. Harry comes over and flops down next to her. 

“How was your evening of hanging with my sister instead of coming to see me?” he asks, and while she thinks he’s trying to sound like he’s joking, he’s maybe a little bothered. Even though she triple checked with both him and Cassandra before offering to babysit, to make sure they were okay with her not being there. 

“More entertaining than that play,” she says, and he laughs and moves the book so he can see the title. “It’s good.”

“I know. I’m just surprised you, Allie Super Jock Pressman, are reading for fun.” He’s laughing when she swats him, and holds up his hands against the attack.

“Harry?” Karen says, and passes Allie an envelope which she’s sure contains a payment she didn’t ask for or need. “Walk Allie home?”

They’re at the end of the driveway when she has to ask, “Are you mad I didn’t come?”

Harry shrugs. “No.” He pauses. “I fucked up a line. I’m sure Cassandra’ll tell you all about it.”

Allie’s voice is quiet as she says, “She doesn’t actually like, want you to suffer.” 

Harry lets out a sound like maybe she’s right, then presses his palm against hers, slips his fingers between hers. They walk a few minutes before turning into the park. Harry pulls away, then, starts walking backwards and reciting lines from the play. Allie laughs, says Cassie’s lines - she’s got them memorized, mostly, from hearing her sister saying them so much and from helping her - and lets Harry practice, or whatever it is he’s doing. 

He kisses her before they exit the park.

For the first time, she wonders why she keeps letting him do it.

… … ...

She’s named Freshman Athlete of the Year by the athletic department, and learns she’s the first girl to receive this honour in like, 20 years. She’s also named MVP of the junior varsity team, and the coach tells her she’ll likely start on the varsity team next year. 

She has to give a speech at the athletic banquet. The closer they get to her name in the program, the more she feels like her palms are sweating and she can’t control her breathing. She goes to the bathroom and dials Harry, and when he doesn’t answer, the only way she can stop herself from having a full on panic attack is imagining his voice in her ear, reminding her to breathe. 

… … …

Luke and Helena start dating at the top of the summer, and Allie sees them almost everywhere she goes. Not that she cares, or whatever. God, she and Luke had one sort of awkward conversation after he kissed her, and then they were back to being sort of friends, or something close to it. He was in her Spanish class second semester because he somehow missed out on a language credit as a freshman. Allie doesn’t know how that was possible, but they ended up as a pair in the class sometimes. 

When she ends up at the movies with the two of them and Harry, it feels really, really suspiciously like a double date. More so when Harry slides his hand over her knee in the darkness. God, it reminds her of the first time they came to a movie together. This time, she and Helena picked the title, though. It’s not an action film and, to her knowledge, no one’s going to die. 

They go for pizza afterward. Harry presses his knee against hers as he sits next to her, and makes fun of the fact that she orders strawberry lemonade instead of soda. She and Helena go to the bathroom together and as they wash their hands, Helena asks, “Are you _sure_ there’s nothing going on between you two?”

Allie shrugs her shoulder, knowing it’s not a good enough answer. Helena stands there, waiting. 

“I don’t know,” Allie finally says. “Secret?” Helena nods. “We kiss sometimes?” She doesn’t know why she sounds so unsure of herself. “And then like, don’t talk about it.”

“Is this a recent development?” Allie thinks about it for a second, then just laughs and shakes her head. Helena smiles softly. “And why don’t you talk about it?” Allie shrugs. “Okay, well, if you’re waiting for a guy to initiate a conversation, you’re probably going to be waiting a while.”

Allie looks at herself in the mirror. She tugs her fingers through the ends of her hair. “Hey, remember when you had a crush on Grizz?”

She means for it to be teasing, to lighten the tone of this conversation and take the focus off herself. She doesn’t like how right it seems Helena is. 

“Oh, please,” Helena says, pulling the door open. “Everyone has a crush on Grizz.”

Allie laughs and Harry and Luke are looking at them as they walk back to the table. Harry’s arm is around her chair, and he doesn’t move it when she sits down. 

… … …

She gets a job at the consignment store in town after she hears her parents fighting about money. It’s right after her birthday, so her age is not an issue. Harry thinks it’s crazy that she wants to juggle soccer and a job. She tells him rich kids don’t get to have an opinion. She makes it sound like a joke, but she’s not really kidding. She doesn’t hate the work. She sorts things, tags clothing, rings people through and counts money. She puts her paycheck directly into her bank account and watches the number grow, knowing it’s a drop in the bucket for college. But it’s something. It makes her feel better. And no one will be able to say she only ever focused on soccer and put all her hope on scholarships. 

She goes to Harry’s straight from practice one day, sweating and overheated. Practice was brutal. It’s way too hot and the two newest girls on the team don’t seem to understand how this team works yet, which means everyone suffers. Usually in the form of drills and laps. Allie knows she was that girl once, but she knows now why the other girls didn’t like her at first.

Harry tells her to meet him outside, so she goes around the back, drops her bag on a lounge chair. Harry’s in swim trunks with Ray Bans over his eyes. Allie doesn’t say hi before pulling her jersey over her head, kicking off the flip flops she stuffed her feet into after practice, and diving into the water in just her black Nike sports bra and shorts. 

Harry’s kneeling by the side of the pool when she resurfaces pushing her hair off her forehead. 

“Stuff of fantasies, honestly.”

Allie feels flushed and frustrated and tired and says, “Get in, then.”

He takes off his glasses, then slips into the water and reaches for her hips. He turns them so she’s pressed against the wall of the pool, and slants his mouth over hers. She realizes it’s exactly what she wanted. Maybe for a while. He’s pressing his tongue into her mouth when she lifts one leg, then the other, and wraps them around his hips. He makes a sound she decides is probably the hottest thing she’s ever heard. 

She honestly couldn’t tell you how long they make out, but they’re obviously too preoccupied to hear anyone pull into the driveway. 

“Oh, lord Jesus.” Allie shoves at Harry and he moves away, brushing his hand against his mouth and staring at her, despite the fact that his fucking _dad_ just caught them like this. “Well. I’ll…” He stops to laugh and shakes his head, his hands on his hips. “Come inside.”

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, and reaches for her, but she pulls herself away. She has to say, she doesn’t feel much more cooled down than when she arrived. 

James sits them down in the living room and stands in front of them. He’s quiet for a few minutes and Allie thinks she’s going to die of embarrassment. Harry’s slouched on the couch like he usually sits. 

James bursts out laughing and then shakes his head. “I don’t know!” he says, and Allie holds her breath. “Honestly can’t believe this didn’t happen sooner.”

“Dad.”

James straightens his tie and all Allie can think is that she hopes he doesn’t tell her parents. “No more hanging out at the house alone, I guess,” is what he comes up with. Then he looks serious, levels Harry with a stare. “We’ll talk later.”

“Oh my god,” Harry moans. “No. It’s not...Allie and I aren’t having sex.”

“ _Harry_ ,” she hisses, hitting his arm. Her cheeks are red. She can feel it. 

Allie just wants to get the hell out of here.

(And it’s weird, probably, now that she thinks about it, that she knows his parents have already talked to him about sex and whatever. Her parents have talked to her, too. She doesn’t remember why they shared that with each other.)

James offers her a ride home. Harry says he can walk her, but his dad shakes his head and gives Harry a look that Allie can tell Harry’s seen before, even if she hasn’t. Harry stays quiet, then, shoots Allie a glance. It looks like an apology. She has no idea what to expect. 

They take the black car Allie’s never been in. Her soccer bag is tucked in next to her feet. The leather seat is cool against her thighs. The engine is loud, but she likes the sound.

James turns left instead of right and she figures he’s not taking her straight home. 

“I assume your parents have talked to you.” Allie holds her breath. She knows what he’s asking, and she appreciates that he’s using these words, and not _sex_. So she nods, not knowing where he’s really going with this. “And I assume they’ve told you you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She breathes out, “Yeah,” and then doesn’t _want_ to feel embarrassed. James is like...a super constant figure in her life, and she knows, trusts, and likes him. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.”

She sees him, from the corner of her eye, smiling gently. “Good.” There’s a pause, then, and he makes a right turn, bypassing Main Street and taking a back road that she knows leads out of town. “The other part of it - the part I think is important for girls - is that there’s nothing wrong with wanting what you want.”

Allie’s cheeks burn. She says, “Okay.”

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed or badly for it.” Allie nods again. No one’s ever said anything like this to her before. “Even if someone you’re close with is the one trying to make you feel ashamed.”

“I…” Allie thinks of Cassandra. She thinks of the way Cassandra looked at her when she asked if Allie had kissed Luke at that party. And the look on Cassandra’s face on New Years when Harry was whispering in Allie’s ear. “I’m not sure how I control that.”

“Me neither,” James chuckles, then she feels him accelerate when they get to a straightaway. “Just something to think about.”

Allie relaxes a little more in her seat, liking the way this fast car moves, and sounds, and how in control James always seems of it, of everything. 

When they circle back into town, they’re talking about Harry. It’s in the sort of teasing way James usually does it. The kind of teasing that’s filled with affection. Allie’s really familiar with this kind of thing, because her grandpa does it, too. She sort of thinks it’s no wonder those two men get along so well. James says something about Harry that makes Allie laugh. Then he says, “I hit the lottery with that kid,” and Allie’s smiling and playing with the ends of her hair. She thinks that is such a lovely thing for a parent to think, and she’s glad for Harry that his dad is so amazing. 

Harry’s sent her three texts, the last one in all caps, asking what embarrassing shit his dad’s doing. 

She calls him, says, “He really loves you, you know,” as soon as Harry answers. 

Harry says, “Yeah, I know. It’s annoying.”

She can tell he doesn’t mean that. 

… … …

She points the hose at him, aiming just in front of him, when she’s watering her grandma’s flowers and he saunters over, board shorts and black tee shirt on. She’s barefoot on the lawn in a crop top and running shorts. She asks him what he’s doing, and he says, “Avoiding Poppy’s little friends.”

Allie grins and tries to imagine Harry over there with Poppy and the group of girls Allie saw arriving earlier. There are no fewer than eight kids there. She can hear them playing in the pool. 

“Let’s do something.”

Allie grins, though she’s not even looking at him. She thinks she could probably be judged for how much she loves the way he sometimes just commands things. She’s not bothered by it. She knows she can always say no. 

“Like what? I have to work at 4.”

Harry rolls his eyes. She knows he still thinks it’s silly that she’s working, but that he understands it, too. 

“You’re always too busy for me these days,” he tells her, then leans on the mailbox. She rolls her eyes, clocks his grin. 

“I can’t help it if I’m more popular than you.” Harry laughs, and she asks him if he wants to watch a movie inside with her. “I don’t wanna stay outside. I’m roasting.”

“Must be why you’re wearing half a shirt.” 

“Shut up.”

He shrugs, smirks at her. He looks way too good standing there with that expression and his sunglasses on his face. 

“I like it,” he tells her, looking at her stomach. She jerks the hose towards him again, making him laugh. “Yo, why does your grandma have so many fucking flowers.”

“She likes them,” Allie says fondly. “They’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” he says without skipping a beat. 

She smiles, and doesn’t say anything more to him as she finishes up. When they go inside, her grandma offers them soda and says she’ll fix them a snack. Harry is stupidly charming and says something about this reminding him of when they were kids. He tells her that her snacks were always the best, and then stands with her in the kitchen as she arranges pieces of celery on a little tray for them. 

“Suck up,” Allie says, and Harry looks way too pleased with himself as he swipes a carrot through some dip and takes literally the loudest bite she’s ever heard. 

He sort of slouches down on the sofa and leans against her as they watch a few episodes of The Office. He turns his head when he knows her grandparents aren’t paying attention, and presses a kiss against her arm. Allie sets her hand on his thigh for a minute before moving it. 

… … ...

It’s his mom’s turn to pick the family vacation, and Karen chooses Paris. Harry says something about how she just wants to shop and drink champagne, and Allie says honestly that doesn’t sound too bad. She’s lying on his bed stretching out her legs as he packs. Her calves feel brutal after an intense game today. She thinks he’s getting distracted by her, but she isn’t doing that on purpose and isn’t going to pay attention to the way he’s staring. 

“I wish you could come,” he says as he zips his toiletry bag and tucks it into his suitcase. Allie almost wants to laugh. She usually just dumps her products into a plastic bag and ties it off. Of course Harry has a specific bag just for this. 

She’s distracting herself from liking those words too much. 

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Keep me company. Look hot in Europe.” Allie laughs quietly. He moves over to sit on the bed, then smiles and moves, fitting himself between her legs. They’ve never done this before. Not like this. Not lying down. It feels really, really good. He pushes her hair off her face and her hands are on his sides. “Kiss you on the Eiffel Tower.” Allie blinks. “Girls like that romantic shit, right?”

“Especially when you call it shit and paint us all with the same brush.” Harry laughs, breath coming out against her face. 

“Well, what do you want?” he asks, and she shifts her hips just the slightest bit beneath him. He takes a breath. 

“Lots of things.” Harry smoothes his thumb over her jawline. “You.”

He says her name, then he’s kissing her. They do that for a while, getting increasingly into it, until they hear Poppy coming up the stairs and Harry gets up and reaches for other things he needs to pack. Poppy sits on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs and making them guess the meanings of the French words she’s saying, even though most of them are totally made up. 

… … …

He sends her pictures of himself in Paris.

She goes to the beach with Cassandra, Bean, Helena and Becca. Becca takes a picture of her in her two piece in the water up to her ankles. Her hair’s blowing a bit in the wind and she likes the way her tanned body looks in the sun. 

She sends it when she knows he’ll be sleeping because of the time difference. 

When she wakes up, too, there’s a message from him saying, _’Hot as fuck’_.

Allie doesn’t post the picture on her Instagram, despite Becca saying she should and wondering why she doesn’t. 

… … …

Kelly Aldrich is a transfer, and Allie keeps her head down and doesn’t let on that she’s annoyed by how much attention the girl’s getting. She’s new and she’s pretty, and so everyone seems to want to know everything about her. Allie watches the guys watching her. She watches Cassandra invite her to sit at her lunch table. She watches Will say hi to her before joining their usual group. 

“I know her from when I lived in Bridgeport,” he says, and Allie knows a little more than most people do about his past. He’s lived all over the state, in different houses with different families. He doesn’t share the details with a lot of people. Allie knows the family he was with in Bridgeport was rich and nice and the only reason he couldn't stay with them is that they moved to Vermont and they would’ve had to adopt him to take him with them. 

(She thinks it’s sort of fucked up that they didn’t, but keeps her opinion to herself.)

“Cool,” Becca says sarcastically. “Another rich girl with an attitude.”

“She’s nice. No attitude,” Will defends, and Allie picks at her salad. Sam’s signing that Kelly’s locker is near his and she seems sweet. 

The third week of school, Kelly makes the cheerleading squad and starts sitting at Harry’s table. 

Allie’s got soccer practice after school, and her grandpa picks her up to take her. She’s tired and distracted all through practice, thinking about how much homework she has and how she’s going to finish her bio lab in time between shifts at work, practice, and actually having to attend school. 

Harry catches her on a bad day, when she’s got an ache in her thigh from a bruise that’s formed after sliding during the weekend’s game. She’s dealing with Mr. Sybliss, who hates her, and trying to switch her shift at work so she can add a few hours of studying. 

He’s talking to her, but as she’s explaining why she’s tense she notices he’s not looking at her. When she turns, she sees that Kelly’s talking to Cassandra and that’s what has his attention.

Allie’s pissed. She rolls her eyes and moves so she can walk around him without bumping into him. 

“Hey. What?” he asks, and Allie keeps walking. She just wants to get home, ice her leg, and do her stupid homework. She doesn’t want to fight for his attention when he’s the one who asked her what was wrong in the first place. 

He reaches for her arm and she lets him take it, stops and turns to face him. Cassandra’s watching them, now. Kelly’s gone. Maybe she will get a ride with Cassandra instead of walking, which she was planning on doing just now instead of having to interrupt Kelly, or whatever. 

“I’m just in a shitty mood. I’m stressing the fuck out and I feel like I’m going insane.” It’s way too honest. She feels like she can’t get anything under control. 

Harry says, “Okay. What can I do to help?”

It’s the first time she thinks maybe she loves him. 

They end up in her bedroom with him helping with her homework. Her mom checks on her every so often to look at her leg and swap out ice packs. Cassandra even comes in and she and Harry bicker over who’s better equipped to quiz Allie and proofread her assignment.

She’s overwhelmed by the attention and starts tearing up. 

Cassandra goes to get her some water, says something quietly to Harry and then tugs the door closed when she leaves, which is absolutely against the house rules. 

Harry lies down on her bed with her, runs his hand up and down her arm and tells her calming things. 

It’s the first time in a while that they’ve been alone and he hasn’t tried to kiss her. She chalks it up to the fact that Cassandra is going to be back any second. He sits up before the door opens again. 

“Maybe you should quit your job,” Cassandra offers as she holds out the glass. 

“That’s literally the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Harry chimes in. Allie can’t even really appreciate the sour look on Cassandra’s face. 

They’re both looking at her. She won’t give either of them the satisfaction of thinking they’re right. 

… … …

She puts in her two week’s notice. 

Harry says, “You know you’re gonna get a scholarship anyway.”

She doesn’t know why he’s so sure of it, when she definitely isn’t, herself.

… … …

James gets a new car - a Maserati, and Allie’s dad admits he’s absolutely jealous - and the other fancy black car isn’t in the garage anymore. Allie sort of smiles about it. She knows James always wanted all their vehicles to be black, but the red convertible is Karen’s and she wouldn't budge on it. She’s had some version of a red convertible the entire time Allie’s known the family. Every few years there’s an updated model. 

Allie makes a comment about Harry driving the SUV to school and not the new car. She’s getting out of her family’s Camry. Harry stopped and waited, stuffing his keys into his pocket, when he saw her and Cassie pulling in. 

“He won’t let me,” he says, sort of pouting. She’s surprised he’s admitting it. 

She laughs anyway, him trailing behind her into the school. She’s got her arm linked through her sister’s. When she looks over her shoulder, he’s smiling at her still. 

… … …

It’s just cool enough for fall jackets when Harry walks into her bedroom - she’d heard him come in and say hi to her parents. She wasn’t expecting him, and now, looking at him with his hands shoved into his pockets, she’s worried about why he’s showing up unannounced. 

“Can we talk?” 

He’s literally never asked before. Allie nods and closes her school books. He sits on the bed and she turns her desk chair to face him. 

“What’s up?”

He isn’t looking her in the eye when he comes right out with it, says, “I think I like Kelly.”

Allie immediately feels it like a punch in the stomach. “Oh.”

“I didn’t want you to find out at school and hurt your feelings.”

She thinks there’s probably something sweet about that, somehow, but all she really registers is that when he said ‘I think’, what he’s really saying is he absolutely does like Kelly and he’s either acted on it or is going to. 

“Okay,” she says, and then he looks up at her. She shrugs a shoulder, which feels weird. Defensive. Fake. “It’s not like we’re dating.”

“Yeah, I know, but…”

“It’s fine, Harry.” He blinks at her. She can tell he wants to press her harder on this. She’s not taking it well and she knows they both know it. She feels a little embarrassed. Foolish, maybe. 

What he does instead is ask what she’s working on. She shows him her calculus homework. She lets him help her because she thinks it might feel normal. 

It doesn’t.

… … …

It’s two weeks before Harry and Kelly are officially a thing. Or, well, enough of a thing that they’re holding hands in the hallways. Allie’s by her locker talking with Sam when he notices, says, “That’s new.”

Allie shrugs her shoulder and signs back, “I’m not surprised.”

He doesn’t push the issue. 

Will’s response is, “Figures.” It sounds about as bitter as she feels. 

Cassandra rolls her eyes and tells them all Harry’s not worth the attention. Everyone looks to Allie as if to ask if she’s going to let Cassie get away with that kind of talk. She normally wouldn’t. She bites into her sandwich instead of defending him. 

Harry still invites her to a party at his place, and she still goes. She drinks shitty vodka - just enough for a buzz because she can’t afford to be useless in practice tomorrow - and sits on the kitchen island with Grizz. He’s not drinking, but he’s got a bowl of Cool Ranch Doritos on his lap that they’re sharing. Harry and Kelly are sharing a chair directly in her line of sight. Harry’s playing with her hair and Kelly leans over to kiss him every so often. 

“Stings, huh?”

“What?” Allie asks too quickly, turning to look at Grizz. He just gives her a knowing look. She rolls her eyes. “Everyone needs to stop acting like he...like he cheated on me, or something. We’re friends. We’ve literally only ever been friends.”

Grizz’s expression softens and he nods twice. “Okay,” he says. Maybe he believes her. Clark, across the room, says something about strip poker and Grizz sighs, closes his eyes. He looks over at Allie again. “I seriously fucking don’t like most of these people.”

Allie laughs and loops her arm through his, leans her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t care if Harry’s looking. 

(He is.)

Grizz walks her home, too. Well, he walks her and Becca both home. Because he’s an exceptionally good human. He flushes a little when she says so and Becca agrees. 

Harry texts her to make sure she got home okay. She knows he saw her leave with Grizz. She wonders if the only reason he’s asking is because he was a little jealous, too. 

She sends back a thumbs up emoji. 

... … …

For Christmas, Harry gets her bluetooth earbuds exactly like the ones she’s wanted. She hugs him, presses his gift into his hands. It’s an old, leather bound, four book collection of the complete works of Shakespeare. He looks really touched. Surprised. Thankful. 

“This is amazing,” he tells her, his voice soft and his hand runs over the cover of one of the books. “Thank you.”

Allie smiles, then messes with his hair and makes him groan out her name and call her annoying. There’s no venom behind it.

… … …

Her biggest tournament is in Texas in January. She misses three days of school, and even though no one tells her flat out, she knows her grandparents pay for the trip. It’s expensive, and Allie offers to cover part of it with the money she made in the summer, but her parents refuse to let her do that. 

She’s flooded with text messages when she lands. All her friends seem to have coordinated an effort to spam her all at the same time. She sort of loves it.

Their first practice, the stands are filled with scouts from a bunch of schools. She isn’t surprised - their coach primed them for this. She tries to focus on what’s happening on the field, not on a bunch of people in polo shirts with logos on them, stopwatches, iPads and clipboards in hand. She’s not even eligible to be approached by scouts yet. This is all just a reminder of where she’s headed. 

She has a monster first day. She’s maybe never played so well in her life. They play two games, win both. Allie scores three goals. Her teammates sing the ridiculous cheer they’ve made up when she comes off the field. Three of the scouts are waiting to talk to her coach. 

Like the stupid teenagers they are, they break curfew and go to a party in the next hotel, where the boys’ teams are staying. Allie doesn’t drink and is a little annoyed that some of the girls on her team do. They have two games tomorrow, too, and Allie really, really wants to win this tournament, okay? It’s the most important one she's ever played in; the best they’ve ever qualified for. 

There’s a cute guy standing by a bluetooth speaker with his phone in his hand. She stands over his shoulder and looks at what he’s putting in the queue. He’s got good taste. Well, he’s got taste similar to hers, and she thinks her taste is good. 

“I’m Max,” he tells her when she suggests a song that makes him smile and add it. 

“Allie.”

“What’s that short for?” She sits across from him, and fixes the front of her shirt, pulling it up a little. Her thumb grazes her star necklace. She pushes thoughts of home from her mind. “Mine’s Maximus.”

“Yikes,” she laughs, and he gives her a grin. 

She doesn’t answer his question, and doesn’t really know why. He doesn’t ask her again, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

They talk about where they’re from. He’s from Indianapolis and he’s a junior and thinks he’s going to be going to UCLA. Allie knows next year she might have some clarity on that, too. For now, she just says she’s a sophomore and focused on winning this tournament. He smiles like she’s precious. She doesn’t like that. But then he switches gears and they talk music and movies and he insists he see her Spotify. 

She’s feeling proud of the fact that she’s introduced him to a new band, and then he kisses her and she knows this is absolutely stupid and going nowhere, but she likes that, too. 

Her teammates make fun of her on the way back to their rooms. Allie covers her face with her hands and tells them to shut up. 

Max gives her a nod after her second win of the day. She’d seen him in the stands watching. She doesn’t see him again after that, and she doesn’t have any feelings about that one way or another. 

They win the trophy and she puts a picture someone snapped of her hoisting the trophy over her head onto her Instagram. She didn’t realize she hadn’t texted anyone but her parents and Cassie to tell them. Her friends flood her comments with emojis and congratulations. 

Harry posts three star emojis and then texts her congrats in all caps, and she smiles and keys out a response after the balloons leave her phone’s screen. 

… … …

She and Will go together as friends to spring formal. She wears a navy blue dress she gets at the consignment shop, and Will folds a blue pocket square up and tucks it into his suit jacket’s pocket. She follows a YouTube tutorial for her makeup, polishes her nails pale grey, and strikes an obnoxious pose at the bottom of the stairs when he comes to pick her up. 

Kelly’s wearing blush pink and Harry has his arm around her on the dance floor. Allie thinks they look sort of cute together. 

Will is a bad dancer. He’s bad on purpose, but still. It makes Allie laugh and she joins him there, twirling around him and moving her hips in time with the beat. He sings loudly, and Allie joins in. Becca comes over, too, though she’s a better singer than either her or Will. 

Allie breaks for a drink, feels dizzy as she finds the refreshments. Harry’s there with a glass of pink punch in his hand. She wonders if it’s spiked. She doesn’t care if it is. 

“He likes you,” he tells her, and Allie pours herself a cup and doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that. 

They haven’t hung out alone together in months. She’s been preoccupied with soccer and he’s got Kelly and isn’t calling Allie on the fact that soccer never used to get in the way in the past. She figures he just cares less. And she’s fine with it. She can’t control it. It is what it is. They see each other at school and at parties, still talk to one another and joke around, laugh at the same dumb shit they always did. They text pretty regularly, and she calls him occasionally when she needs help with school stuff and doesn’t want to hear from Cassandra that she should just ‘try harder’. 

But it’s sort of fucked up that he wants to act like he knows anything about her love life.

“Stop.”

“No.” She squares her shoulders to him. “I’m serious. He’s into you.”

Allie feels bold, asks, “Why do you care?”

It’s too much, maybe. Kelly’s close by. These two have been together for months. Allie’s crazy to think Harry’s jealous or anything even close to it. 

“You’re clueless,” he says, and it’s a joke. He’s not serious. “You can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

Allie can see _him_ , and wonders if he’s avoiding saying something about _them_. Because that's what this feels like.

“And you want me to be with Will?” she asks. 

Harry pauses, looks over at Will, who’s now talking with Becca and Sam. “No.” Allie lets out a laugh. This isn’t helping her clear anything up. It also feels really unfair, if she’s being honest. “I dunno. I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy.”

Harry smiles a little sadly at her, like she’s pathetic, or like he knows something she doesn’t. “Allie.”

“What?” she laughs. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Are you just finding it hard to believe a girl could be happy without having anything to do with you?”

Harry blinks at her. She’s never said anything so mean to him. He doesn’t say anything. She walks away first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of you already guessed what's coming in this chapter. I'm sorry in advance. 💙

Allie sleeps with Will on the 4th of July, after the fireworks, when her whole family is out of the house and she’s coming down off a funnel cake sugar rush. 

She’s such a fucking cliche. 

She tells Cassandra in the morning, when they’re sitting alone drinking tea and eating bagels, and Cassandra _laughs_ , and says, “At least you didn’t lose it to Harry Bingham,” as if that’s the worst thing that could’ve happened.

Allie can’t say anything else about it, really. But she does know that making out with Will, she was chasing the feeling she always had pretty easily with Harry. She’s sure as hell not going to tell Cassandra that now. 

… … …

She’s staying with her grandparents while Cassie and her parents visit colleges. They’re scheduled to be gone a week and Allie was invited, but didn’t want to go. She’d like to have her own college visit experience and not piggyback off Cassandra’s. Even though she’s positive she won’t be interested in or asked to go to any of the same schools as her sister.

They go for a walk after dinner, because it’s a thing they like to do sometimes. It’s cooling off in the evening and Allie likes the slow stroll through the neighbourhood and how they wave or stop and say hi to people. Her grandma always tells her she must get bored, just standing talking to folks, but Allie really just thinks it’s sweet that her grandparents are so well-liked. 

James is pulling in when they approach the house on their way back home. He gets out, smiles and comes over to hug Allie. 

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he says, even though it’s been only about a month. Harry had an end of the year pool party after the last day and James had been there. “You don’t come around much anymore.”

She feels all three of them staring at her, waiting for a response. Some kind of answer or reason why. What she wants to do is tell him to ask Harry about this, not her. Knowing James, though, he already has. 

“Everything got really busy,” she says, and it sounds lame, and she looks up at James and he gives her this little sad smile before changing his expression.

“You know,” he tells her, and _god_ , she can see all these flashes of Harry’s face in his. Maybe the other way around. All she knows is she’s seen this smirk a hundred times before on someone else. “You don’t just have to visit him.”

Allie smiles, feeling sort of loved.

“Okay.”

He says something about organizing a barbecue for the neighbourhood and Allie forces a smile. 

She wonders if Harry even misses her. 

… … …

Will brings a book to her soccer game. 

It is absolutely a stupid thing to be mad about. Maybe. But maybe it isn’t?

She doesn’t expect him to be a cheerleader, or even really to be enthusiastic. This isn’t the first time someone’s come to a game because they knew it was the right thing to do, not because they wanted to. But even Becca can throw on a smile and at least _watch_ as she talks about other things with other people. Will sits in the shade of a tree at the furthest corner of the field, reading. She sees him clapping when her team scores, but he’s turning his page before the celebration is even finished on the field.

What’s worse is the way he makes her feel like an asshole for mentioning it to him afterward. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he sort of laughs. “I’m not really into sports, but I show up for you.”

Bitingly, she says, “Maybe we have different definitions of showing up.” Will looks confused. Actually, she realizes, he looks annoyed at the suggestion. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you like, pay attention to this thing that’s practically the most important thing in my life.”

“Maybe I just don’t get why soccer is more important to you than people are.”

Allie stares. 

“That’s not true. What the fuck?” Yeah, she’s defensive. That was a super rude thing to say, and it’s not true. And if he doesn’t understand why and how soccer is such a big deal, then he’s done a shitty job of learning about her. “I can’t believe you said that.”

He sighs, closes his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” It doesn’t really feel good enough. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” she says too fast, and then rolls her eyes at herself. They stare at each other, and then Allie gives him a little smile, and he breaks, too. “Soccer is important because it’s literally my ticket out of here.” Will nods, but she adds, “I know you get that,” anyway.

“Yeah.”

“But if you don’t wanna come, just don’t come.” She means it. He seems to be trying to figure out if she does. “I’d seriously rather that.”

Will moves forward, kisses her forehead. “Maybe just not every game.”

Allie laughs a little, nods. 

She sort of wonders what _his_ thing is. He’s super smart and he’s banking on academic scholarships, but he doesn’t like to talk about college or where he might apply, or anything like that. 

It makes her feel selfish, somehow. 

… … ...

She’s babysitting Poppy. Karen called her and said it was an emergency, and that she wouldn't ask but she didn't know who else to call after trying Allie’s grandma and getting no answer. It’s really not a big deal. They swim a bit, then have lunch and cool off in the AC, then Poppy wants to do a scavenger hunt, so Allie scrambles to pull something together and they’re outside in the backyard. The sun is screaming down on them, and Allie’s wearing just her bathing suit top and denim shorts, her hair tied back off her face. Poppy’s running around trying to gather clues and items as Allie laughs. 

Harry and Kelly emerge through the back doors in their bathing suits, and Harry stops in his tracks when he sees Allie. 

“Hey,” he says, surprised. 

“Hey.” Allie’s breathless and Poppy is being super hilarious. “I thought you were at Kelly’s for the day.”

She’s not stupid, okay? She knows teenagers just basically chase empty houses and why they do it. God, she does a similar thing with Will. She figures these two came here because they thought they could be alone. Allie doesn’t care that this throws a wrench in their plan. 

She only feels a little badly when she sees how embarrassed Kelly looks.

Poppy shouts, “Help me with my scavenger hunt!” and Allie meets Harry’s eyes. He looks annoyed, but it fades away when she cocks her brow like a challenge. 

Kelly watches the three of them before she joins in, too. It’s not lost on Allie that Kelly only gives in and starts playing after Harry’s hooked his arm around Allie’s waist, laughing, and spun her around. 

She knows she could leave, but she stays until Karen gets home anyway. They’re eating popsicles and Poppy’s is dripping orange spots all over the patio stones. Karen kisses her kids’ heads and then regards Kelly and Allie with a look Allie can’t really decode. 

… … …

Right before Student Council President candidate speeches, Allie’s sitting with Will in the auditorium. His palm is a little sweaty against hers. They were pretty much together all summer, but had an actual conversation about it two weeks ago, and she was sort of feeling like they were both afraid of what would happen once school started. 

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket and she pulls it out to see Harry’s name on the screen. She’s surprised - speeches are supposed to start in a few minutes. 

And he hasn’t called her since...She doesn’t even know the last time. 

“Allie,” Cassandra says in a rush. Allie’s surprised as hell that this is the voice she’s hearing. “Come backstage. He’s…”

Allie doesn’t let her sister finish, and she doesn’t explain anything to Will as she gets up and brushes past him, knee knocking into his hard enough to hurt. He calls her name out but she doesn’t answer, just rushes out the side door of the auditorium and backstage. It’s mostly dark, and Cassandra is there, along with the two other people running, and their principal. 

Harry’s kneeling, face in his hands. Allie gets on her knees in front of him, and she thinks she tells everyone else to back up. Actually, what she thinks she says is, “Stop fucking staring.”

He reaches for her at the sound of her voice, and then she places both her hands on the sides of his neck and his find her wrists. He’s holding tightly, his thumbs pressing into her pulse. 

“Harry. Harry, look at me.” He glances up, and then she notices how pale he is, just as he lets out a whoosh of air. She starts counting to three, deep inhales on the odd numbers and exhales on the even ones. He’s struggling. She strokes her thumbs over his cheeks and his eyes flutter closed as he continues to breathe. 

Once she’s satisfied with his breaths, she moves her arms around his neck and pulls him to her. Cassandra catches Allie’s eye over his shoulder and looks scared, or impressed, or...Allie doesn’t have time to think of what that look means, honestly. Harry’s hands are clutching her shirt at her back, and the principal is on stage, now, announcing the ground rules for the speeches and the elections, and Allie doesn’t actually know if he’ll be able to go out there. 

“What happened?” she asks, and he pulls back, rubs his hand over his face. 

“Nerves.”

“Harry…”

He gives her a pleading look. She stares at him a moment, hoping to sort of intimidate him into being honest with her. She lets out a sigh, breaking first. She reaches for a bottle of water nearby, hands it to him. 

He’s up first. Their principal didn’t even change the order. Asshole. 

“What was that?” Cassandra whispers in her ear as they watch him start his speech. 

Allie knows he’ll hate that Cassandra knows this thing that happens to him. He’ll think it’s a weakness, and that Cassandra will use it against him. Allie knows that’s not true. 

“Who do you think taught me how to deal with panic attacks?” she says, and then looks over at Cassandra. She looks...sympathetic. “I had my first one when I was at his house. You were sick.”

Cassandra breathes out, “Allie,” and Allie just shakes her head. They don’t need to talk about this now. 

Allie’s fucking terrified of how easily he puts on this persona he wears at school. He’s standing up on stage with a mic in his hand as if he wasn’t on the floor five minutes ago. 

He nods at Cassandra as he’s coming off stage and she’s coming on. 

He touches Allie’s hip when he rejoins her backstage. 

“Thanks,” he tells her softly. 

Allie just nods. She can’t make her voice work. He just sounded the way he used to with her. The way he hasn’t in forever. 

… … …

She can’t stop thinking about it. It’s really stupid. She’s got a boyfriend and he’s got a girlfriend, but all she can think about is how quickly she went to him when he called, and the fact that he _called_. 

But...Did he call? Or did Cassandra just open his phone and call the first person she thought of? It makes sense that person would be Allie. It doesn’t make sense, though, because the first name that’d come up on his call log would be Kelly, and… And why wouldn’t Cassie just use her own phone?

The point is, she needs answers. She’s driving herself insane thinking about this, and she can’t talk about it with anyone. Cassandra won’t want to talk about it - won’t think it’s anything that needs talking about. Will’s out of the question. Becca was out sick that day and sometimes - just sometimes - Allie worries Becca isn’t the absolute best at keeping secrets.

She knocks on the front door because even though she used to just wander into the house all the time, she hasn’t done that in almost a year and it feels strange to even think about. That said, Karen and James look at her like they find it weird Allie didn’t do just that. They chat a little in the foyer, and Allie wonders where Poppy is. Usually the girl comes running at the sound of Allie’s voice. 

Karen tells her Harry’s in his room, and to head up if she wants to. Allie sort of loves the gentle implication there that maybe she’d come just to see the family, and not him, specifically. 

He’s on his bed with a book in one hand and the other behind his head when she walks in. He looks surprised as hell to see her. 

Then he smiles and she feels like a fucking fool for how much she still likes him. 

_Likes him._

“What the hell happened the other day?” 

He sighs. “You mean why did I tell Cassandra to call you?”

Allie freezes. Okay. That answers that question. 

“I didn’t know you did,” she tells him. He closes his book, sits up a little. Allie walks closer, thinks twice about sitting down on his bed, but does it anyway. “Why not Kelly?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “I really want my girlfriend to see me like that.” Allie clenches her jaw, hurt by the fact he clearly doesn’t see her the same way as Kelly and never has. He watches her face. Then adds, quieter, “I wasn’t really...You’re the first person I thought of.”

She’s torn between being flattered, and being upset that he only thinks of her when he needs help. 

“You knew I’d come,” she says, looking at her lap. She feels foolish for...Not for saying it, but for how true it is. 

Harry reaches for her hand. She sort of wants to cry, and hates herself for that, too. 

Then he says, “I’d do the same for you, you know,” and she looks back up at him, knowing her face betrays her feelings. 

“Still?” she asks timidly. 

Harry nods, sliding his thumb across her knuckles. It catches on the birthstone ring her grandparents gave her for her birthday this year. He’s probably never noticed it before. She watches him smile at it, push it a little back and forth so it catches the light. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

Allie wants to kiss him, but doesn’t.

… … ...

She’s drinking this fancy wine Luke will probably get in shit for pulling from the cellar and serving to a bunch of high schoolers who don’t care what something tastes like as long as it gets them drunk. She likes it, though. She didn’t want to get drunk, but then Luke pressed this bottle into her hand and Helena said they should share it, so here she is, sitting in the Holbrook’s sun porch with Helena’s legs draped over hers, Gwen saying something about being sad they’re all seniors. Apparently she isn’t including Allie in that. Or she’s had enough to drink that she’s not thinking clearly. Harry’s sitting with Kelly on his lap, playing with her fingertips as she sips something that looks like cherry Kool-Aid and he has something that looks like scotch, or whatever. 

Grizz, who’s sitting with his head down and his elbows on his knees, scoffs. 

Allie nudges his foot with hers, smiles at him gently. 

“I can’t wait to leave this place,” he admits, and Allie nods. She notices Harry does, too. Everyone else looks like it’s bittersweet or something. She’s also acutely aware that most of her friends - at least the ones here tonight - are seniors. She’s got another year after this one. It feels like she’s got to wait forever to leave.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up, Grizz?” Helena asks, and it’s a genuine question. 

He shrugs. “Not scared.”

He’s sincere. Allie thinks he’s one of her favourites. She leans forward, taps her wine glass against his red Solo cup. 

Harry clears his throat and shifts under his girlfriend, as though the conversation is making him uncomfortable. 

Kelly, who must be drunker than she’s come off so far, uses her cup to point to people in the room. She says, “Lawyer,” when she points to Helena, “Coach,” to Luke, “PR,” to Gwen, “Soccer,” to Allie. 

Allie laughs loudly and shakes her head. “I’m not gonna be a pro soccer player. Try again.”

“You could be.” It’s Harry’s voice, and he’s staring straight at her.

“You’re really good,” Grizz adds. He sits back in his chair, then, grins at her and she thinks he realizes she doesn’t really like this attention. “Other possible career paths.” He starts counting on his fingers. “Props master for film and TV.” Allie rolls her eyes as everyone laughs. The only reason she’s doing props for the play again is Cassandra signed her up without telling her, and they all know it. “Social worker.” She doesn’t know if that’s a dig at Will, but then remembers that Grizz would never do that. “Wedding planner.” Everyone laughs again. “Total and complete world domination.”

She grins at him and reaches over for a high five. “Yeah, that.”

“Is aspiring to dictatorship a Pressman family trait, or?” Harry’s eyes are shining with laughter as he says it. Allie sticks her tongue out at him. “Where is your sister, anyway?”

Allie shrugs. “Not here.”

“You are just so much cooler than her,” he says, and Allie doesn’t respond. He’s usually good about not talking shit about Cassandra. Not in a mean way, anyway. She knows he slips up. She also knows that since she and Harry aren’t as close as they once were, he and Cassandra are at each other’s throats way more. 

“Maybe you just think that because you and Allie were literally inseparable, or whatever,” Kelly says. There’s more heat behind it than Allie ever would’ve expected from the girl. Probably whatever’s in that red drink. Allie ignores Harry’s eyes, but notices that Grizz is looking at her from the corner of his. 

No one says anything for way, way too long. 

“I mean, if I can control Harry Bingham even a little bit, world domination can’t be too far off, right?” she asks. 

Grizz suggests they play a game, and as everyone talks about what to play, Allie catches Harry’s eye. He’s just sort of grinning at her, this little half smirk that makes her feel fucking insane. 

It’s the wine. Must be. 

… … …

She breaks up with Will in October, because she barely feels anything for him anymore, and it’s not as fun as it was in the summer. He says something about still wanting to be her friend, and she figures that’s just what you do in a small town when you break up and know you won’t be able to avoid one another. If she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t really want to be his friend. It’s going to be awkward and people are going to talk about them and ask questions, and she just wishes it could be easier and that she didn’t have to see him in the halls and in classes. 

She hates this part. The part where everyone’s learning they’re not together anymore, and wondering what happened. 

“I think Will’s nice,” Kelly says, and Allie doesn’t even disagree. Becca’s nodding.

“Yeah. He is.” 

Becca adds, “Super nice.”

Allie looks down the hallway, to where Will’s talking to Sam. “People don’t stay with their high school boyfriends.”

“Some people do,” Kelly says quietly, but she’s not making eye contact. 

Allie wonders if Harry’s in love with her. 

It’s none of her goddamn business. But she wonders.

… … …

Cassandra gets early acceptance to Yale and their entire family shouts and celebrates it like it’s a victory for all of them. She got in off the back of her essay and her amazing GPA and, probably, a bunch of other stuff. It’s not like Allie’s surprised her sister got in. The more she thinks about it, the funnier it is that any of them are acting like they didn’t know it would happen. 

Their grandparents come over to share the happiness, and Allie sits at the dining room table, sipping from the glass of champagne she’s been allowed to have, and listens to them all share stories and anecdotes about how brilliant Cassandra is. 

“And next year, it’ll be Allie,” her grandma says, and Allie smiles at her. It’s nice to be included. And this is a thing she thinks her grandma has been doing for Allie’s entire life. Or at least as much of it as she can really remember. 

Allie’s mom smiles gently, says, “For tonight, let’s just focus on Cassandra.”

Allie swallows the stupid lump in her throat. 

Her grandma reaches for her hand on the table and squeezes. 

… … ...

She looks up into the stands at her next game just in time to see Harry sitting down next to her grandpa. 

Her heart does a weird thing in her chest when he notices her looking and nods in her direction. 

They’ve hung out a couple times since the elections. Well, more than a couple times, but a couple times on their own. They went to a movie and then Dairy Queen, because she was feeling nostalgic and he rolled his eyes and indulged her. Then last week they went to the mall together, for some reason. He said he wanted a new watch, because Harry’s the kind of teenager who decides to get a new watch. Allie ended up buying a new pair of jeans. But mostly they just wandered through the mall, talking and sipping tea. 

She didn’t tell him she had a game today. Then again, he’s been her friend for long enough that it’s reasonable to think he just knows her game schedule. He certainly knows where to find it. 

After the game - a loss and she’s pissed - he offers to drive her home. They’re on the sidelines with her grandpa, who seems happy to have had the company to watch the game. She likes how easy it is for her grandpa to agree to let her leave with Harry, too. He’s got no reason not to trust him, she supposes. 

She showers and pulls her clothes on, wishing she had something slightly better to wear than jeans and this grey sweater, but it’ll have to do. She swipes on mascara and some lip balm and says goodbye to her teammates who are still kicking around in the locker room. She’s got her bag over her shoulder when she walks out, and Harry’s standing there, elbows leaning back against the railing separating the stands from the field. 

“What’s with the surprise?” she asks, and he shrugs his shoulders and pulls his keys from his pocket. 

“Bored. Figured I’d watch your soccer game and see if I could catch a nap.” Allie rolls her eyes, elbows him. He puts his arm around her as he laughs. “I’m craving pizza.”

They pull up to this spot one of the girls on her team who lives in this town has mentioned before. Harry cuts the engine and hesitates just a moment, like he wants to say something. But then he gets out of the car and she does, too, slipping her phone and bank card into her back pocket. (Though she knows he’s not actually going to let her pay. Never does.)

After they’ve ordered way too much food for just the two of them, Allie sips her ice water and tucks her hands into her sleeves a little. Harry sits back in his chair. 

“I think Kelly’s gonna break up with me.” Allie knows her mouth opens in shock. Harry gives a sad smile, then looks down at the table, spins the fork atop the napkin to his right. 

“Why?” she asks, and then corrects herself. “Why do you think that, I mean?”

He looks up at her. “You said some shit about people not staying together after high school.” She freezes. He wasn’t there for that, so Kelly obviously told him. He sighs. “Her parents are getting divorced.”

She lets out a breath. “I didn’t know. I…”

“They’ve been together since they were like, 15. She’s all freaked out.”

She chews her lip. “Are you?” she asks, and he shrugs his shoulder. She figures he doesn’t know what she’s asking. Maybe she doesn’t, really, either. “Do you wanna break up?”

He’s just looking at her, thinking. Allie almost starts counting in her head to see how long he takes to think about it. 

“I don’t know that I care.” Allie nods. She knows that feeling. She had that with Will. She didn’t really care if they broke up, so she figured that meant they should break up. “I thought I loved her.”

“You thought?”

“Yeah.” He gets this little grin on his face. “But it’s not like I can see myself growing old with her in a little house with a million flowers in the yard.”

He’s talking about her grandparents, and she’s flooded with so much affection for him that she almost, almost could cry. 

She feels like a bad person for saying, “So if she doesn’t break up with you, maybe you should break up with her,” but Harry just nods. “It’s not so bad.”

He gives her a look, narrowed eyes like he’s just been let in on a secret. 

Shit. 

She and Will had tried to stick to the story that their breakup was mutual. 

“I knew you were a heartbreaker, Allie Pressman.” She rolls her eyes. Their garlic bread is served. Allie’s starving, so she dips some in the little pot of marinara and doesn’t respond to him. “It’s cool. I dunno what you saw in him anyway.”

“Don’t do that,” she insists, talking with her mouth full. She swallows and wipes her fingers on her napkin. “This competitive guy thing you do.”

“Not much of a competition, is it?” He leans one elbow on the table. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I’m hungry and you kidnapped me.”

Harry’s laugh sounds good and she lets herself, for just a single second, wonder if someday they might get their shit together.

… … …

News of their breakup doesn’t surprise her, but she plays pretend. Harry tells her and their friends himself at the lunch table. Everyone says they’re sorry and he says he just doesn’t want people gossiping and spreading shit around that isn’t true. 

He leans into Allie in the hallway and says, “You’re a better actor than Cassandra,” and Allie laughs and tells him to get lost. 

… … ...

Her alarm is set for 5:30, because there’s a tournament and her whole family is coming.

The bed dips before the alarm rings, and she doesn’t understand what’s happening. The hall light is on, and her dad is in the doorway. Her mom’s on her bed, hand moving over Allie’s side. 

“What...Cass?”

“No,” her mom breathes out. “No, honey. Cassandra is fine.” Allie sits up, board straight. Something’s going on. “James was in an accident.”

Allie’s throat is tight and her dad moves closer. She feels her breathing speed up. There’s more to this. 

Allie watches her mom’s tear’s spill down her cheeks. 

“He passed away,” her dad says, and Allie…

She doesn’t mean to be...She just can’t _sit here_ , and… She pushes her mom’s hand off her, and ignores the way her dad says her name. She pushes herself back against her headboard and lets out a sob, and James can’t be _dead_ , okay? She saw him last week. He was fine. What kind of accident? When? Who told…

She pulls back the covers and puts her feet on the floor. Her mom tries to reach for her, but she’s grabbing for clothes and mumbling something about having to go over there. 

“Allie,” her dad says lowly, putting his hands on her shoulders. Cassandra must’ve heard the noise, because she’s in the room now, too, looking tired and confused as to what’s going on. “You can’t barge in on another family’s grief.”

She isn’t even going to start the argument of it being _her_ grief, too. This isn’t about her. 

“My best friend’s dad is dead,” she says, and Cassandra gasps and puts her hand over her mouth. “I’m not just gonna sit here!”

“Your tournament,” her mom says.

Allie glares, clenches her fists. “You don’t care about soccer the rest of the time. Don’t pretend to give a fuck now.”

Her mom looks a little wounded, but Allie is way too emotional to have a working filter, and she just wants to put these clothes on and get to Harry’s house. 

“I’ll take her,” Cassandra says quietly. She’s not meeting their mom’s eyes. Allie stops, then stares straight at her sister. “Call her coach. If the Binghams need anything, I can help. If not, I’ll be back soon.”

Allie starts crying even harder, grabs her sister into the tightest hug. Their parents don’t say anything more. For once in Allie’s life, Cassie’s hyper pragmatism is coming to Allie’s rescue. So is the fact that their parents trust her so much more than they seem to trust Allie. 

They hold hands the entire drive to Harry’s house. The lights in the kitchen are on. She doesn’t know what she’s about to walk into. 

She remembers the garage code, and the door inside is unlocked. His mom’s red convertible isn’t in the garage, and neither is the SUV. Allie feels like she might be sick. Cassandra is behind her, following closely. 

There’s a broken glass on the counter in the kitchen, and some of the glass has fallen to the floor. Allie can only imagine...This is probably where the police came in and told Karen, and…

She moves to start picking up the bigger pieces of glass, but Cassandra stops her, says, “I’ll do it.”

Allie tries to swallow her dread as she heads for the stairs. When she gets there and starts up, she hears a sound, and then Harry’s standing there at the top, looking _devastated_ , and she should have thought more about what she was going to say to him when she got here. He’s in a tee shirt and boxers, and turns to go back to his room. She wonders, very quickly, where Poppy is.

She gets her answer when she walks into his room and sees the girl curled up on his bed with her stuffed bunny. Allie didn’t think her heart could break more. She doesn’t think Poppy really understands what’s happening. She’s not crying. She looks sad, but…

Allie stands next to the bed Harry’s sitting on, and his arms go around her, his face pressing against her stomach. She squeezes her eyes shut. Partly to keep herself from breaking down, but also so she doesn’t have to look at him or Poppy. Harry’s body shakes a little, and she moves her hand into his hair. 

She has no idea how long they’re like that - minutes, anyway - but Cassandra comes quietly into the room, sets her hand on Allie’s back, and then her knee on the bed. Harry pulls away at the movement and looks up at Cassandra. She reaches out for Poppy, then puts her other hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry. I’ll stay with her.” Poppy moves a bit, then completely off the bed. She tucks her little hand into Cassie’s and the two leave the room. Cassandra pulls the door closed behind her. 

“Harry,” Allie says, voice hoarse. He just lies down on his side and pulls the comforter over himself, and then tugs the corner back, inviting. She lies down, too, and then he’s pressed against her, clutching her arm. His lips are right against her shoulder, just resting there. 

“Not yet,” he tells her, voice hoarse. 

He finally falls asleep after a half hour or so, and Allie lets herself cry, wiping the tears that are falling down her temples with the sleeves of her sweater. She’s trying not to move too much, afraid of waking him. But he’s probably exhausted. She’s dying for answers. How long has he known? When did this happen? _What_ happened? If she found out so early in the morning, then it probably happened in the middle of the night. She tries to imagine how it went. The police coming. Telling them. Or just Karen and her having to tell her kids. 

Allie’s never been close to anyone who died. She’s trying to separate her own sadness from what Harry must be feeling. 

He shudders in his sleep, his body going rigid, then loosening again, even as his fingers press against her side. 

Allie’s eyes are closed, but she’s not sleeping when she hears the door open. Karen appears, looking absolutely wrecked, but she breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Allie and Harry. Allie wants to pull away from him, wants to go to Karen and hug her and say a million apologies for something she can’t even really comprehend and has no control over. 

Karen leaves. 

She retreats to the master bedroom. 

She doesn’t come out. 

Cassandra is making toast and eggs when Allie finally pulls herself away from Harry. His eyes had opened to see her, but closed again seconds later. Poppy is curled up on the sofa with the television on and a blanket over her. Allie catches sight of her reflection in the mirror the Binghams have hung on the wall next to the dining room table. Her hair’s a mess and her face is red, eyes swollen. She pulls the elastic from her hair and pulls it up again in a neater knot. Cassandra smiles at her sadly. 

“I checked in on Karen,” she says quietly. “She’s…” Cassie doesn’t finish. Allie nods. What words could you even use? They’re too fucking young for this. “I’m going to take some water and toast up. Is Harry…”

“Sleeping,” Allie supplies. Her throat is raw. Cassandra pushes the cup of tea that’s on the counter towards her, and Allie takes a long sip. 

“He should eat.”

As if on cue, he emerges at the bottom of the stairs and walks towards them. He’s pulled on sweatpants, but done nothing with his hair. He looks to Poppy, face falling a bit, then takes a slow breath and walks into the kitchen. He glances at the toast and the scrambled eggs, then to the coffee machine. 

“I couldn’t figure it out,” Cassandra says like an apology. It’s not exactly the $49 drip coffee maker they have at their house. There are elaborate knobs and buttons. 

Harry gives a sort of pathetic smile that fades way too quickly, and reaches for a mug. As the machine hisses to life and starts grinding beans, Cassandra tells him he should eat something. He doesn’t call her bossy or make a snipe about not having to do as she says. His back is to her and he just ignores her. 

Allie wrings her hands. She moves over, hand sliding up his back and onto his shoulder. 

“Please,” she says, and watches his eyes flutter closed. He seems to think about it, nods, and takes the triangle of toast she offers him. 

Coffee in one hand, toast in the other, he turns around. She wants to ask him how he’s feeling and what she can do and what he needs and if she can help.

He looks at Cassandra, says, “Thanks,” and she just nods, and then Harry laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “This’s what it’s gonna be like. People are gonna be fucking weird around me and not know what to do.” Allie wants to say something. “Rich kid with a dead dad.”

Poppy pads into the kitchen, then, and wraps her arms around her brother. He closes his eyes like he’s tired, or like...Allie doesn’t want to guess. Given what he’s just said, he’s probably thinking ahead to how Poppy’s going to handle this. To how he’s going to have to help her handle this. Harry got more of their dad than she did. She’s just little. 

Allie stays all day. Cassandra leaves after their grandma arrives. Allie follows Harry to his room and once he’s settled, once he’s stopped crying again and gone back to sleep (it scares her, how he keeps seemingly exhausting himself this way), she goes into the master bedroom. She’s only been in here a few times before, when Harry was borrowing his dad’s watches, or when Karen told her she had a pair of earrings Allie could wear to a banquet. 

Karen is sitting in the chair in the corner. Allie brings her a cup of tea. 

“Thank you,” Karen says, and Allie wishes her grandma was in here instead of her. She thinks the wisdom of being older would serve Karen better.

“Can I…” She doesn’t know how to end that, or what question she was actually going to ask. “What do you need?”

“Just...Harry’s going to be…”

Their eyes meet and they’re both crying, and Allie just nods, says, “I know.”

… … …

What happened was the car drifted from its lane, hit the shoulder, rolled twice into the ditch and landed on its side. 

Allie can’t wrap her head around it. She’s never seen a more in control driver. He was so deliberate and careful and practiced. His stops and starts were smooth, and even when he was driving fast, which he liked to do, he wasn’t reckless. 

Harry blames his mom at first. She’d wanted James to take her car out ‘for some exercise’, which is a thing even Allie had heard this family use before. James used to say it when he wanted to drive his fancy cars for no reason. Harry seems to think, though, that if his dad hadn’t been in that car, then nothing would’ve happened. 

They pay for an autopsy, because apparently none of this makes any sense to Karen, either. 

As it turns out, he had an aneurysm that caused this chain of events. 

She knows Harry. He needs someone to blame. This random, freak accident is going to make him…

She’s scared about what it’s going to make him do. 

… … …

At the funeral, she stands with her family; Cassandra holding one of her hands, and her grandma holding the other. 

Harry doesn’t show emotion the entire time, despite how many people have shown up - half their town, she thinks, and all his friends - or what words are said or how many people shake his hand and talk to him. He wears all black and his hair is a mess. 

There’s a small gathering after the service, and when she can’t find him, she looks throughout the house and finds him and Poppy in her room. She’s still in her dress from the funeral, though the deep purple bow in her hair is drooping and poised to fall out. They’re sitting back on her bed. Harry’s got his eyes closed and Poppy’s reading out loud from _A Tale Of Two Bad Mice_ , and Allie knows the set of books was a gift from her own grandparents for Poppy’s recent birthday. She trips over a word and Harry turns his head, opens his eyes to help her, and then notices Allie there. 

She hates wearing tights and this dress is one of Cassandra’s and it’s too big through the hips. Harry jerks his head to invite her in. Allie lies across the bottom of the bed and picks at her pearl-coloured nailpolish as she listens to Poppy’s little voice. 

… … …

When Harry shows up at school for the first time in a week and a half, he’s revving the engine of the Maserati and backing it into his usual parking spot. Becca nudges Allie’s elbow as if Allie hasn’t already noticed. As he passes them, he tosses his keys up and catches them, cocky grin in place, and then stuffs them into his pocket. 

Allie catches up to him. 

“Harry, you’re driving…”

He cuts her a look that makes her stop. “Not like he can tell me not to.”

She doesn’t question it anymore. It becomes Harry’s car. He drives it around town and Allie knows there’s some truth to the statement her dad makes, which is that Harry’s gonna hang onto whatever pieces of his dad he can. 

… … …

He’s drunker than she’s ever seen him, at a party at his house. His mom and Poppy went to stay with his Aunt for the weekend and he didn’t want to go, and his mom - Allie’s guessing - didn’t have it in her to argue with him. 

This time he’s not drinking shitty beer from the bottle, he’s drinking some brown liquor from a crystal glass. He’s the life of the party, arranging games and encouraging people to participate. Grizz, who’s mostly sober, she thinks, is staying pretty close to him. Allie’d wanted to come and experience some kind of normal. She realizes now she was really naive to think that was going to happen. 

She’s never seen him like this before. It isn’t him. 

(What scares her, when she really thinks about it, is that maybe this _is_ him, in the after of his dad passing.) 

“Allie!” he calls out when she pours herself a vodka and cranberry. He throws his arm heavily around her shoulder. “My girl.”

It’s loud enough for people to hear, and it makes her uncomfortable. Kelly’s nearby, and turns her back to them. Allie forces a smile and looks up at him. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing a little. 

“Having fun,” he tells her. He takes a sip of his drink. Then reaches into the ice bucket on the counter and drops a couple more cubes in. She’s glad he’s watering it down. Grizz catches her eye, almost as if he’s asking if she can keep watch for a bit, or maybe just to let her know that he’s on it, too. “You wanna have fun with me, Pressman?”

Allie can’t help laughing a little, shaking her head at the thought of him _hitting on her_ right now.

“Who says I need you to have fun, Bingham?” 

Okay, so maybe flirting with him is too easy and she shouldn’t be doing it. He pulls back a bit, cocking his brow and grinning at her, seemingly impressed at what she’s implied there. 

“I have something to show you,” he says. 

Allie bursts out laughing. “I’m sure you do, but no thanks.”

Grinning, he presses his glass against hers and says, “Not that,” then pauses. “Unless…” She pushes at his chest as he laughs. “Come with me?”

It’s a request, not a drunken command, and she appreciates that even though it still feels like a slightly awful idea to be alone with him right now. Not that she’s afraid, or thinks he’s going to do anything, but because there are so many people around and their absence will surely be clocked. She’s gone most of high school without any wild rumours about her spreading, and she’d like to keep it that way. Then again, if someone says something about her and Harry, it wouldn’t exactly be the first time for that, either. Maybe she just wouldn’t classify that in the category of awful things people could say about her, or something. 

They end up in his dad’s office. Which is really more like a study. It’s really sort of a reading room with a big window looking out over the backyard. There’s a desk with a laptop closed atop it. His diplomas are on the wall. There’re shelves and shelves of books. She’s been in here before, but it still feels...Well, it feels like James. 

Harry picks a piece of paper up off the desk and hands it to her. As she unfolds it, she sees the Princeton logo and his name at the top, and then she’s reading and smiling. She has enough foresight to set the paper down so she doesn’t crumple it before she throws her arms around him. 

“Harry,” she breathes into his ear, and he buries his face in her shoulder and holds her tightly. 

“Georgetown, too, but…”

He doesn’t finish. His dad went to Princeton, and she’s known for probably months that if he were accepted, that’s where he’d go. Now, especially. 

“I’m really proud of you,” she says, and he pulls back, looks down at her. He reaches up and pushes her hair back off her forehead, and he’s looking at her lips, and… “We shouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, but neither of them are moving. 

“You’re drunk.”

He tilts his head, then meets her eyes. “Don’t need to be drunk to wanna kiss you, Allie.”

He sounds irritated. Like he thinks it’s stupid he has to tell her. 

“Why _are_ you this drunk?” she asks quietly, looking downward. Their arms are still around each other. She likes the way they look like this. Together. 

“Why not?” He pulls away, reaches for his glass, probably just to spite her. “Who gives a fuck? I got into college and my dad’s dead and high school is bullshit.” He takes a long drink. “Why wouldn’t I drink?”

She says what she feels, which is, “It’s a little scary.”

He passes her her drink, stands in front of her, close enough that she can smell his cologne again. “Maybe it makes me feel less scared.”

Allie feels a lump in her throat, but really doesn’t know why. 

When she says, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” she’s looking at her feet, and it feels really, really true, and it’s the first thing she thought. He’s going to leave, or he’s going to not be himself. One or both of those will happen. And then she’ll be here with all these memories of her best friend and this person she’s always felt she needed _more_ of, and she won’t have him anymore. 

He’s just breathing, standing there watching her. She thinks he’s surprised she said it. She thinks he’s touched, maybe. She thinks he needed to hear it. 

She thinks she sees a flash of a guy she really, really wants to meet. The guy he’ll be when he’s through his grief and figured out how to grow up now. 

She puts her hand on his cheek, presses her lips to his quickly. 

(She doesn’t need any help wanting to kiss him, either.)

… … …

Will gets offered the lead in the school play when Harry drops out after learning he’ll have to kiss Cassandra. 

Allie’s shocked, honestly, because these stupid plays are a thing he loves to do, and he’s always the lead, and a school production without him is going to feel wrong. 

“Why’d you quit?” she asks him in the parking lot, when he’s walking too quickly to his car and she’s rushing to keep up with him. 

He stops before he opens the door, puts his forearm on the roof and stares at her. “C’mon, Allie.” He grins, and she knows he’s going to say something mean. “You think I wanna kiss her? Even pretend, it makes me wanna drink bleach. Pass.”

It’s almost funny, and she’d laugh if it wasn’t a total lie. (That being the real reason he quit. She fully believes he doesn’t want to kiss Cassandra.) He pulls the door open, and looks annoyed that she’s still standing in front of his car. 

“I’m not moving until you tell me the truth.”

“Get in, and I’ll tell you.”

Crossing her arms, she volleys back, “Tell me, and I’ll get in.”

He rolls his eyes, but sighs and lowers his voice, though there aren’t a lot of people around. “Feels pointless.”

She can’t even argue that. She gets in the car.

He drives too fast, and lacks the kind of control James had, but she thinks he looks hot anyway, with one hand on the wheel like that, and she likes the way her shoulders press back against the seat when he accelerates. 

“Should we go to DQ?” she asks, and is really, really unsure if it’s going to trigger him or make him happy. 

He smiles. A proper smile. 

“Only if you keep your peanut butter nonsense on your side of the table.”

It feels like a victory.

… … …

Her coach introduces her and her grandparents to a University of Florida scout after a game in June when Allie’s played her ass off despite also being distracted by her upcoming exams and knowing her sister had a checkup this morning. 

The woman tells her she was impressed by what she saw, and asks Allie a few questions about herself - how long she’s been playing and her season stats and if she plays at school and if she’s thinking of any programs, specifically, she’d like to join. She hasn’t really narrowed anything down. Sure, she’d rather join a winning team than one with a poor record, but really, she’s keeping her options open. The scout takes notes and Allie tries to stop her grandparents from looking so proud. They’re practically giddy. She apologizes, but knows she doesn’t really need to, and that’s what this scout tells her, anyway. 

“People are talking about you,” the woman - Sarah - tells her. “You should know there’s going to be competition to get you. You should consider the Gators.”

Allie just nods, thanks the woman for her time. 

When they get home, the house is pretty quiet, and her family is all in the living room, and Allie doesn’t say anything about the scout, or her words, because she’s being told that Cassandra has to go in for another procedure before starting school in the fall, and it just doesn’t seem like the time. 

… … …

She’s almost asleep when her phone buzzes on her bedside table, scaring the hell out of her. She reaches for it, sees Becca’s number, and doesn’t really know what to think. There was a party tonight at Sam’s, and Allie didn’t want to go because Campbell was going to be there, back from military school for the summer. He creeps her and Cassandra out and always has. Sam understood her not wanting to go. 

Her hopes of Becca just calling for a sober ride are dashed almost immediately. 

“I’m sorry. It’s Harry. He’s…”

“Drunk?” she asks, already pushing back the covers. Her parents don’t mind if they take the car or leave the house late if it means they’re helping someone else get home. She knows her dad is still downstairs watching a west coast baseball game, so she’ll tell him on her way out. 

“No, but I think he’s looking for a fight.” Allie picks up the pace, pulling on a pair of shorts and tugging a tank top over her head. 

Allie knows she can make it to Sam’s house in 7 minutes, door to door. 

When she pulls up, the street is lined with cars and there are people milling around on the lawn. Becca’s waiting for her in the driveway and Luke is there, too. Allie, selfishly, thinks she’s fucking tired of being the only one who can save him, or whatever the fuck this is. Couldn’t Luke do something? Couldn’t someone pour him into a cab or force him home, or…

She walks around the house and into the backyard just in time to see Campbell swing his fist, striking Harry in the face. 

“Hey!” she shouts, running forward, pushing people out of the way. She shoves Campbell hard and he stumbles a little. She’s _pissed_ and the way he’s _smirking_ at her makes her want to scream. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth.”

“Fuck you, Campbell,” she says, not caring at all that Harry might’ve goaded Campbell into something. That’s likely what happened, given what Becca said when she called. “You’re a goddamn psychopath.”

There’s something downright furious on Campbell’s face, and then someone who must be one of his friends - the guy is sketchy as fuck and way too old to be at a party with a bunch of high school kids - presses a beer into his hand. Campbell takes a drink, all while staring at her. Allie stands firm, doesn’t budge, and he finally backs up before turning to go into the house. 

When she turns around, Harry’s bleeding from his eyebrow and looking at her like he’s impressed, or something, which pisses her off. Sam’s there, standing close to Harry, signing an apology. She replies that it’s not his fault, and thanks him for trying to keep things under control. She also tells him to come to her house if he wants somewhere else to sleep tonight. Luke asks if she needs help, and she glares. 

“I’m not the one you should’ve helped,” she hisses. He sighs like he knows she’s right. 

She grabs Harry by the wrist and he follows behind her without arguing. He says goodbyes to people as he passes, and she’s annoyed that he’s still putting on a show and acting like he’s fine even though he just got punched in the goddamn face. Twice, now that she sees him under the floodlight at the side of the house that turns on as they walk past. 

She offers Becca a ride home, because the thought of her friend with this group of people is terrifying, and Becca gratefully accepts. She gets into the back seat as Harry gets into the front, and passes him a tissue. 

“Don’t get blood on my mom’s new car or she’ll freak out,” Allie tells him. 

“You got it, boss.”

“Don’t be cute,” she snaps, looking over at him as she turns the key in the ignition. Becca says something about this being an awkward ride home. 

Harry turns around in his seat. “You called her?”

Allie catches the irritated look on Becca’s face in the rear view. “The last thing I heard you say before I called her was, _just fucking swing at me, dude,_ and you’re insane if you think that’s normal behaviour.”

Allie can’t help almost laughing at the way Becca lowers her voice to mimic him. 

Harry reaches for the aux cable and says something about ‘tunes’. Diplo is playing as Allie pulls into Becca’s driveway. Her friend thanks her for the ride, and Allie stresses that it’s really no problem and she doesn’t mind. Becca then looks at Harry again, tells him he needs to get his shit together, and gets out of the car. 

Allie doesn’t say another word until they’re at his house. Becca was right about two things - he’s not drunk, and he needs to figure himself out. She gets out of the car, and he looks surprised by that. He unlocks the front door and walks in, closes and locks it behind them. Allie kicks her flip flops off on the mat and watches him toe off his shoes. He’s just looking at her, though. 

She reaches for his hand, pulling him up the stairs. He whispers something about liking where this is going, and she glares at him over her shoulder. Under normal circumstances, she’d say _you wish_ , but now he’s getting into _fights_ and spiraling in such spectacular fashion that sleeping with him isn’t even close to on her radar. 

She pushes him into his en suite bathroom and makes him sit down on the toilet seat. 

“Could get used to you manhandling me.”

“Stop,” she pleads seriously. He seems to only then realize that she’s genuinely upset. She doesn’t know how he could’ve missed it. 

She runs a face cloth under cold water, wringing it out, and then opens a drawer hoping to find peroxide or something. The first drawer is toothpaste, a razor and shaving cream, hair product and cologne. The second has lotion, spare bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and condoms. 

Wet cloth it is. 

The cut is still bleeding a bit and he’s really not cooperating with her. First, his knee knocks against her leg, and then he reaches for her hand. She tugs it away and tilts his head, but ends up where she thinks he wanted her anyway, standing between his knees. Just as she presses the cloth against his brow bone, he sets a hand low on her hip. He doesn’t wince in pain or react at all as she clears his skin of blood. She notices a smaller cut at the right edge of his bottom lip. 

He’s watching her as she focuses on his face. 

“Am I ugly now?”

Allie clenches her teeth, using her left hand to tilt his head to the side so she can wipe at the drying blood near his temple. “This isn’t funny.”

He has the audacity to grin. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Her hands fall away and he looks up at her, doesn’t miss his opportunity to pull her closer. 

“I can’t keep fucking rescuing you,” she tells him. He blinks. “You’re _scaring me_.”

“What are you scared of?” At first she thinks he’s just being an asshole, but then she realizes he’s being genuine. He wants to know. 

She takes two deep breaths. 

He wants to know someone gives a shit. 

She sets the cloth down, puts her hands on his shoulders, then up to his neck. He closes his eyes a second before opening them again. 

“I’ve probably been in love with you for our whole lives,” she says, and feels like she might cry. This is so stupid. It just hit her all at once and it’s _true_. She doesn’t think she cares about anyone like she cares about him. She remembers dating Will, and what that was like, and wondering what she was supposed to feel, because it wasn’t _this_.

“Allie.” It’s whispered. She doesn’t want to hear him tell her he doesn’t feel the same. That doesn’t matter. 

“You’re too important to piss it all away.” He shakes his head but she holds tighter, stopping him. “And too hot to let people punch you in the face.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes are shining a little. “It would be really, really cruel of you to make me watch you keep fucking up.”

His hand moves mostly onto her ass, but then he’s pulling her closer still, leaning his head gently against her stomach. It reminds her so much of the morning his dad died that she has to hold her breath. He slips the fingers of his other hand between hers and then she worries he’s gonna get blood on her white tank top. Her dad’ll flip if she comes home like that.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, and she can tell he means it. “I’ve just got all these fucking feelings.”

Allie laughs a little, but not at him. She also feels like since she just told him she loved him she can probably sit on his lap. He lets her. It’s easy. His hand goes to her thigh and he holds her there. 

“You could talk about them instead of drinking and getting into fights to try and feel something else.”

He almost grins. “Why do you know me so well?’

“Your fault,” she says, and runs her finger along the edge of the bruise that’s forming near his eye. “You let me do it.”

There’s a silence, then, and his breathing starts to match hers. He uses his hand to push her hair back, and she braces herself for a comment about what a mess it is. 

“Allie, you know I…”

She shakes her head quickly. “You don’t have to...Please don’t.”

He looks at her, confusion marking his features. She gets why he’d be unsure. She doesn’t know what he was going to say. She doesn’t know if it’d be better or worse if he said he loved her, too. 

… … …

Allie babysits Poppy on Tuesdays when Harry’s at therapy. It’s new and he says he doesn’t like it, but he keeps going, and Allie thinks that means more than he wants to let on. She doesn’t bring it up. She doesn’t ask him about it. 

She just shows up at the elementary school every Tuesday to take Poppy home, and they spend a couple hours hanging out until he gets back. 

He always thanks her before she leaves, as if he actually thinks he needs to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP James! 😭


	5. Chapter 5

Allie cries at Cassandra’s graduation, because she does the stupid thing and wonders how this could’ve all been so different. Cassandra could’ve died and not had this moment as Valedictorian. 

(Harry thinks - he’s told Allie - that if his dad hadn’t died and he hadn’t fucked off with school work second semester, he would’ve beaten Cassie for that honour. Allie doesn’t know if it’s true, but she does know it would’ve been a competition.)

“Party at mine later,” Harry tells her, gown still on, hair a mess from his cap. 

Allie shakes her head. “Seniors only.” 

He furrows his brow. “It’s my house and I’m inviting you.” She still refuses. Grizz is approaching. “Your loss. Coulda been your last chance to get lucky with a hot upperclassman.”

Allie rolls her eyes, then leans into Grizz when he puts his arm around her shoulders. “There’s always college guys.”

“What about college guys?” Grizz asks, and Harry looks annoyed at her for saying it. It’s sort of hilarious. 

“Harry’s trying to get me to come to his party by making empty promises.” She raises her brow and Harry’s just staring at her in shock at her boldness. She wags her fingers at them both. “Have fun.”

“Allie, wait!” Harry calls after her, then she hears his laugh, and she looks over her shoulder. He’s standing there smiling, watching her leave. 

… … …

Poppy has a pool party after her school year is through, and Allie happens to walk in when there are five girls running into the kitchen for juice, or something. Harry’s looking thoroughly inconvenienced as he tries to make himself a coffee uninterrupted. She said she’d come over to watch a movie. She’s surprised he didn’t want to leave and invite himself over to her house instead. 

He makes her a cappuccino without her asking. It makes her heart ache; James used to make them for her when she’d come over. He called them his specialty, despite the fact that all he really had to do was press a couple buttons and put a mug beneath the spout. 

Harry pushes his bedroom door closed behind them once they’re in his room, and this is a sort of new thing. His mom doesn’t seem to care. Allie knows her parents would. 

They argue over what to watch on Netflix, because at this point fighting about what to watch is as much of an activity as actually watching things. She sits on the floor and leans back against his bed and he brackets her with his legs. She cradles her mug between her hands and vetoes his shitty suggestions, and plays this strategically, offering up a couple movies she _knows_ he’ll absolutely not want to watch, so that by the time she suggests the thing she really wants, he’ll think that’s better and agree. 

Works like a charm. 

“What’re you doing down there?” he asks, and she shrugs her shoulder, legs extended in front of her and crossed at the ankle. Harry’s hands are warm when he sets them on her shoulder, kneading gently. She keeps herself from letting out a sound. It feels really good; she had practice this morning and it included some weight training. That, and it’s him touching her and she can’t think of an instance where she didn’t like that. 

A while into the movie, she places her hand over his and tugs, and he sighs heavily but joins her on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arm around her. She leans her head back against his bed, then turns to look at him. He’s watching her. 

“You’re missing it.”

“Missing what?” he asks in this low voice that is just so ridiculously attractive. He’s saying watching her is better than watching the movie, knows it’s a good line - he _knows_ it. She’s come to really appreciate this arrogance he has. He reaches over, rubs a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “Your hair gets so blonde in summer.”

She likes that he’s known her long enough and well enough that this is a fact he’s very familiar with. 

“Yeah?” It comes out softly, which she sort of hates. She watches him wet his lips as he nods. “Did you just invite me here to get me into your bed?”

She means for it to be a joke, but Harry nods, which surprises her enough to make her freeze. 

“That’s always why I invite you here.”

“Harry,” she sighs, and he shrugs one shoulder, just a little. 

Allie turns to face him, gets onto her knees and feels his hands skim up her thighs as she leans in to kiss him. 

They don’t sleep together - she doesn’t think that’s a thing she’ll be able to do with him, honestly, not if they aren’t something more than whatever this is. He doesn’t push her and he smiles at her when she points out that they’re just making out on his bedroom floor like a couple idiots. 

… … ...

Allie stays with her grandma and grandpa when Cassandra and their parents go to New York for this procedure she has to undergo. It’s minor, and Allie’s been walked through the whole thing, and if it all goes to plan, it should mean Cassandra doesn’t have to have another surgery for 10 years or more, if at all. Allie doesn’t really understand like, heart surgery or congenital defects, but she knows this is pretty much the best case scenario. 

Harry pulls out of his driveway in his car, pulls up when she’s cutting roses off the bush with her grandma. 

“Come for a ride?” he asks, leaning over to talk out the rolled down passenger side window. 

Allie notices her grandma smiling and shaking her head. Allie wants to ask about that, but focuses on Harry instead. She squints against the sun and walks over, leaning down. 

“What’s in it for me?”

Harry gives her a look that makes her _want him_. 

“You’re asking me that in front of your _grandma_?” he whispers, faking like he’s scandalized. 

She turns around to tell her grandma she’s going to go, but her grandma waves her off, says something about knowing she was going to leave with him the second that garage door opened. She tells them to be safe and call if they’re going to be late. 

He asks her about Cassandra, how it’s going and when she goes in and when Allie will have updates. She answers, teases him a little for how much he seems to care about the wellbeing of his sworn enemy. He says Cassandra hates him more than he hates her. Allie thinks it’s not true. The truth is neither of them hates the other. She thinks, weirdly, they could actually be friends if they channelled their energy into working together rather than competing. But that’s a conversation she’s had with both of them so many times over the years, she’s lost count and knows it won’t make a difference. And now that they’re sort of going their separate ways, it doesn't really matter. 

He holds her hand as he drives. He pesters her about her ‘shitty music’. He makes fun of her when she holds her breath as they pass a cemetery. 

He raises her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles when a really pretty song comes on, and Allie gets quiet, looks out the window, and wonders if they maybe could’ve been doing this all along if only she’d had the courage to _say something_.

… … …

“Truth or dare,” Helena says, sitting down next to Allie at the edge of the pool. She’s wearing a cute pink two piece with ruffles along the hips. Allie’s in her black bikini and wishing she didn’t have to walk into the house to get another margarita. 

She also rolls her eyes at her friend, sighs and says, “Truth,” because dares scare her. 

“Will they or won’t they?”

Confused, Allie furrows her brow and looks to Helena. “What?”

Helena points to Allie, then across the pool to Harry, where he’s standing with Grizz and Clark. Allie rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. 

“Do people have nothing better to do than gossip?”

Helena laughs. “We literally don’t. We’re all just counting days until we leave for college.”

There’s a bitter thought in Allie’s head, then, that maybe if they weren’t all spoiled rich kids, they’d be able to occupy their time with work or saving money. But she doesn’t go there. No need to be mean.

After a few seconds, she says, “Won’t,” quietly, and can tell Helena’s just staring as she says Allie’s name softly, all full of...Sympathy? Sadness? “It doesn’t make sense.” Helena scoffs like that’s absurd, but Allie continues. “He’s leaving.”

“But you could…”

“This isn’t like you and Luke, okay?” she says, and there’s no bite to it, really. She’s just stating facts. “You two’ve been together ages and planned for this. I don’t know where I’m going, and then like, god, it’s crazy to even think of _a year_ from now, because why would I even believe we’d last that long. We’re...”

She wants to say fucked up, but she doesn’t.

Helena pauses, then just links her arm through Allie’s. “That makes me a little sad for you both.” 

Allie just nods. She considers spilling everything to Helena; that they’ve kissed, and she admitted she loved him, and it kills her to be so close to something with him but still have it feel like nothing. 

Instead, she admits, “I’m a little sad, too.”

Harry looks over, then, smiles at her before looking away. Allie thinks she could cry if she let herself. She doesn’t.

… … …

Harry’s leaving in two weeks and she has a three day tournament out of town. He, jokingly, she thinks, asks if it’d be crazy if he took the weekend and came to watch. It would be, and she tells him so. 

“If you do well, I’ll take you out for ice cream.”

He thinks this is a funny joke. She doesn’t say it, but she wants to let him know how much he reminds her of his dad sometimes. 

“Really? That’s all the reward I get for winning?” Something dark flashes in his eyes, and he clears his throat. It makes her laugh. If he’s trying to hide his dirty thoughts, he’s only just barely succeeding. 

They shouldn’t be playing this game, but here they are, anyway. 

When she gets back from the tournament, she’s walking past Cassandra’s room and sees that her sister has started to pack already. She almost stops in her tracks. She obviously knew this was going to happen, and she’s been quietly freaking out about her sister leaving, and living in this house alone with her parents. Suddenly the idea of having all their attention all the time is scaring the shit out of her. She feels like they all barely know each other, even though that is an absolute exaggeration. Maybe, really, what she’s afraid of is losing Cassie’s influence on their parents, because often her sister was using that to advocate for Allie. If Allie’s got to do that all herself now, she isn’t sure what the next year will look like. How will they interact? Do her parents trust her? Do they think she can make her own decisions about soccer and college without Cassandra weighing in? She honestly doesn’t know. 

Allie drops her bag in her room and texts Harry that she’s home, because he asked her to, said he’d come over and ‘treat her’. She likes the way that sounds a little too much. 

“This is crazy,” Allie says, flopping down in Cassandra’s desk chair. Cassie’s bed is covered in clothes. She’s labelled piles for donation and for keeping, for winter storage and for reassessment. Allie smiles quietly to herself. Cassandra isn’t even going that far. She’ll be able to come home, probably, as often as she wants to. 

“What is?” Cassandra asks, smiling. She’s not asking about the tournament, but Allie doesn’t care - they’d texted the entire bus ride home and so Allie doesn’t really have anything else to tell about her weekend. 

“We’re old.” Cassie laughs, tosses a pale blue button down into the donate pile. Allie reaches for it. She thinks it could look cute with her ripped black jeans. 

“We’re not old. We’re barely getting started. I can’t wait for you to go to college, too.”

“Even if it’s far as fuck away?” Allie asks softly, thinking about Florida and that scout and the other schools who’ve shown the slightest bit of interest in her. None of them are in New England. The closest is in North Carolina.

“Yes,” Cassie says, then continues emptying her closet. “I could spend my whole life around here. I love it here. You’re the wild one.” It’s teasing, so Allie rolls her eyes. “You’re going to go crazy if you stick around. You’ve at least got to get out and then see if you want to come back.”

“Why would I want to come back?” she asks, and it’s a question neither of them has the answer to. 

Allie’s scared shitless of leaving and going somewhere else and being whoever she wants to be, because she doesn’t _know_ who she wants to be. She’s got time to figure it out, but the pressure of it is terrifying. She wonders what it’ll mean if she changes. She wonders if people will like her if she does. 

Harry wanders in, all tanned skin and messy hair. Cassandra says hi, but turns her back to him. She gives Allie some kind of knowing look. 

Allie thinks, basically, that it translates to, _You’d come back for that_.

Allie takes her new-ish shirt and leaves the room. Harry follows. She tosses it onto a pile of clothes on the chair in her bedroom, then asks him if he wants to distract her for a while. 

“From what?” he asks, walking behind her down the stairs. 

She wants to say ‘my feelings’, but she just shrugs her shoulder instead, and likes the way he gives her half a grin as he pulls his car keys from his pocket. 

… … …

Grizz gets a new phone number before he even goes to Cornell, and he tells Allie she’s one of the few people he wants to have it. She’s flattered, _loves_ this kid, and asks why he’s trying to disappear. He looks like there’s something he really wants to say, but stays quiet. They’re sipping lemonade and walking down Main Street. She worries this’ll be the last time she sees him before he leaves. 

“I love you, you know that?” she says, and she’s never said it to him, even though she thinks they’ve been friends almost as long as she’s been friends with anyone else. He smiles a little, puts his arm around her shoulder. “You’re an awesome person, Grizz.”

“I know,” he says, and he’s not joking, and she thinks that’s truly amazing. He really means it. He knows it. She wishes she could be that confident in herself, to own it. She could learn from him. “Would’ve been so easy if I could’ve just dated you.”

Allie laughs a little, doesn’t ask why he thought he couldn’t. 

“You’re too good for me.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, teasingly. Allie laughs out loud. “Let’s not pretend you ever looked at me that way, either.”

Allie smiles a little around her straw, and then looks up at him. “I wouldn’t say I never did.” His brow goes up and he pulls away. Jogs a few steps and throws his hands in the air, saying something about it being a true victory that _Allie Pressman_ had a thing for him. 

And it’s true. There was a time there, when...Look, what Helena said that one time is accurate. 

Allie watches him, laughing, and misses him already.

… … …

She cries when Cassandra leaves to move into her dorm. Yale’s not even far enough away that Cassie couldn’t just commute, but obviously she doesn't want to do that and Allie doesn’t blame her. But she’s still emotional about it. Her parents are both going with her for the move in, and Allie says goodbye to her sister in the driveway and waves, blowing kisses dramatically as the car drives away. 

She walks back into her empty house and then cries in her room and wonders if she’ll feel even more sad when Harry leaves. There are boxes in his bedroom, too. They haven’t talked about them. 

… … …

He has a party the night before he leaves, because of course he does. He says it’s the last party they’ll ever have there, but Allie doesn’t even believe that. When he comes back for holidays or breaks or summer, she’s sure this house will be full of these same people doing this same thing. They might just have a semester or two worth of college knowledge in their brains, but they’ll still be drinking underaged and listenening to someone’s Spotify plugged into Harry’s fancy sound system. 

Allie doesn’t really want to drink, and notices he isn’t, either. Well, he has one beer but then she notices water in his hand all night. 

Bitterly, she sort of wishes this was just them and not a party. She’s selfish like that. He deserves to be with the people he wants to be with. At least the ones who haven’t already left for their respective schools. 

He pulls her onto his lap when she’s walking by and he’s lounging around the outdoor fire pit his mom decided she had to have for this summer. It’s actually really pretty and Allie likes it a lot. She likes the way Harry looks in the glow of the flames. She also thinks it’s a shit awful idea for a bunch of drunk teenagers to be wandering around an open fire. 

Harry’s hand is on her ass as she sits across his lap, legs crossed, arm around his neck. 

“What’re you doing?” she asks, and he presses his lips to her arm even though Helena and Luke, Becca and Clark are all sitting right there, watching them. 

“Touching you,” he answers quietly. She tilts her head. She can’t help that it makes her want him. She can’t help that it makes her want to scream. Cry. Tell him to stop because they _can’t_.

Later, when most people have left and she ends up in his bedroom and her back is against the wall, his lips on her neck, it makes it even harder to think of leaving here and not seeing him for god knows how long. She moans when he presses his thigh between hers, and her fingers are in his hair. He says something against her lips about how badly he wants her, and she _knows_ , and wants him, too. 

She’s lying back on his bed and he pulls his shirt off and she knows the lump in her throat is probably all the words she wants to say and hasn’t. Somewhere in there is repeating that they can’t do this, they shouldn’t, they’re just screwing themselves over. Harry leans over her, between her thighs, and the smile he gives her right before he kisses her again is one she’s literally never seen before. 

She’s fine, really, until his hand moves between her legs beneath her dress, and she _wants him_ , so badly, but she feels so stupid for letting them get this far. He’s literally leaving tomorrow. She knows this isn’t just him wanting to sleep with her to say he did, or anything else that would make her feel awful, but…

She still thinks it’s cruel of them to do this to one another when they know what the reality is. She thinks they’re fucking stupid for never really talking about it. She thinks they’re even stupider for ever kissing at all this summer. 

“Stop,” she breathes out, and he does, sets his hand atop her thigh and pulls back, looking at her. He seems confused, but then she realizes it’s not confusion, it’s concern. He touches her face and she realizes she’s crying. “I don’t want to.”

It’s a really poor summary, and it’s way too direct, and he deserves a lot more than this. He does. He moves off her, props himself up on his arm and looks down at her. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks genuinely, and she shakes her head, but feels her chin trembling. “Allie.”

“It would just be like, a goodbye,” she says, and then swallows harshly, and feels foolish and vulnerable for how she’s just lying on his bed and he’s still shirtless. He gently tugs the hem of her dress down a little, which only makes her feel even more for him. “We can’t _do_ this.”

“Maybe we could.”

He means it, which is crazy and frustrating and pisses her off. Is he just saying that, or does he mean it? How could he possibly? He’s literally leaving town tomorrow and moving out of state. She suddenly feels like such an idiot for the way they’ve handled like, their entire friendship. It’s so stupid, and she feels way too young - too immature - and like she can’t trust her emotions. 

She shakes her head, and Harry’s just staring at her. He moves away a bit more, and she sits up. His pinky ring catches on her bracelet and he carefully untangles them. He only started wearing that recently. It was his dad’s. Allie thinks about how much they’ve gotten through, and wonders if they’ll get through this, too. 

“We’ll ruin everything,” she says. He lets out his breath and reaches for his shirt. Allie wants to leave. She’d leave if she didn’t think they had to keep talking. If she just bails, she doesn’t even want to think about where they go from there. 

“You’re scared.” He scrubs a hand through his hair once his shirt’s back on, and Allie wants to argue with him. She doesn’t like the accusation and how he’s making it. It’s not like he’s saying she’s scared of what would happen. He’s saying she’s too much of a coward to even try. 

Maybe she is. She doesn't know. 

“You’re leaving,” she reminds him. “And then I’ll just be here alone.” 

“There it is,” he says, standing up and shaking his head. She doesn’t like how mean it sounds. She’s not going to dwell on whatever point he thinks he’s making. 

“I’m not crazy for not wanting to fuck up our friendship by wanting things we can’t give each other.” She knows she’s breathing too fast. Harry seems to be paying attention to that, too. His hands are on his hips. “You should get to go to college and do whatever you want. And I shouldn’t have to stay here and _miss you_.” 

He stands in front of her, then, considering her words. He reaches out and pushes her hair over her shoulder, then rests his hand there. His thumb slips under the strap of her dress. 

“You think you won’t miss me this way?” he asks, sort of grinning. “That we won’t miss each other?” She doesn’t say what she’s thinking, which is that they need to just get over each other. She needs to get over him. “I’m gonna miss the hell out of you.”

Allie smiles sadly, looking up at him. She stands, puts her arms around his waist, leans her head against him. 

“Maybe in another world…”

Harry laughs quietly, waits a beat, two, three. “Maybe.” 

She wipes her tears as she pulls away, and Harry keeps his hands on her. Without even trying, he’s still making this so fucking hard for her. 

She just can’t have half of him. Part of him. She’ll want him too much and it’ll be miserable. 

“Walk me home?”

Harry nods, then seems to not be able to stop himself; he leans in, both hands on her face and kisses her. 

This feels like a goodbye, too. 

… … …

She runs for Student Council Vice President because her mom thinks it’ll look good on her transcripts and Allie, despite historically not really caring at all about school politics, thinks there might be something to that. She puts posters up around school, and Becca helps her campaign, and she posts a selfie of herself throwing a peace sign in front of one. It’s got a picture of her on it, glitter around the photo like a frame, and the slogan she and Becca came up with. It’s totally silly, but it’s all for show anyway. She’s only running against one other person - a junior with like three friends. Allie’s not stupid, okay? These things are popularity contests. 

Allie wins, because of course she does. She posts a picture Sam took of her during the results ceremony in the auditorium, and captions it _’Mama didn’t raise no loser, but she did raise someone who doesn’t know what to do with her hands while standing in front of a crowd’_.

Harry DMs her, tells her she looks hot in that picture. She writes back that she looks hot in every picture. He texts her a photo from like four years ago, her lips stained purple from a popsicle, hair stuck to her forehead and her dorky old soccer uniform on. 

She writes back in all caps and tells him to delete it immediately. He doesn’t respond. 

… … …

Cassandra comes home for a weekend at the beginning of October, and Allie’s eating an apple, drinking Gatorade, and doing her homework after practice when she arrives. They hug, and Allie’s way too excited to see her sister considering it’s only been like a few weeks since they saw each other last. Cassandra came to a game when Allie’s team had one in New Haven. 

“Oh, _please_ let me help you with your homework.” Cassandra reaches for Allie’s algebra text and pulls it onto her lap. 

“Nostalgic?”

“I haven’t done math in ages!” 

Allie laughs. Cassie’s pretty set on doing international relations, or something like that, and her classes are all things that set her up well to select that as her major. 

Allie still doesn't even know what she wants to be. She won’t say buying a shitty van, taking a year off and driving across the country hasn’t crossed her mind. 

(She’s probably not gonna do that. It’s low on her list of options. But still.)

She also doesn’t need help with her homework. But she thinks it’s making Cassie happy to do it, so she doesn’t say anything. 

They have dinner as a family, and their grandparents come over, too. The chicken is dry, but Allie eats it anyway and logs it in the food diary app her whole team has been asked to use. Her coach says diet is something college coaches really care about, and Allie really wants to show that she’s serious, okay? She needs to be prepared to apply regularly to schools if soccer doesn’t work out. But the thing no one seems to be saying - no one seems to want to jinx it - is that it’s really, really unlikely she won’t end up at a school with a full ride. 

There are multiple conversations. It’s overwhelming, and navigating it with her parents is honestly one of the only things they’ve ever done together like this, without Cassandra. She’s trying to imagine doing this with Cassandra still in the house and it feels like it would’ve been impossible. Now that Cassie’s all set up at an Ivy, there’s time and space for Allie. She doesn’t even feel guilty about it anymore. 

The day she signs her letter of intent for the University of Florida - which, if she’s being honest, has been her top choice all along - there’s a bunch of press attention and photographs. She’s interviewed for some podcast on college sports for the school, and for the local paper. There are photos of her online almost every time she looks. Her mom is collecting links and making PDFs of all of them, printing them, even, and adding them to a book. “You may want them later,” she says, and Allie doesn’t argue. This all just feels like a crazy amount of attention. 

“You did it,” Harry says when he calls. 

It’s the first time she’s heard his voice since the night before he left, when he’d walked her home.

“I guess so,” she says, and Harry lets out a low laugh, like he’s annoyed (though maybe not surprised) at her trying to downplay it. “How’re you, Princeton boy?”

“Nope. Not gonna let you brush it off.” Allie’s quiet. “This is like, really awesome. You should let me shower you with attention and praise.”

Allie lies back on her bed. “Okay,” she breathes out, and by the end of the call, he's saying something about sending her a Princeton shirt to add to her collection. She assumes he’s talking about the Yale hat he saw her wearing on her Instagram in a pic with Cassie when she visited. 

“Want me in your clothes, huh, Bingham?”

“Or out of yours,” he mumbles, and then says, “Nothing,” when she asks him to repeat himself. 

The first time she wears her Florida Gators sweater to school, her classmates all clap, which is weird as fuck and makes her feel...She’s never really had the spotlight like this. Not at school. Well, sometimes on the soccer field, but their high school team was shit and being the best player on a bad team doesn’t actually give you attention as an athlete. Except in her freshman year, her high school team has been incredibly unremarkable. 

No one comments when, a couple weeks later, she’s wearing a grey tee shirt with an orange P on the front.

… … …

“Will and Kelly are dating,” Becca whispers to her when she sits down at the cafeteria table like a week after Thanksgiving. Allie’s still a little disappointed more of her friends weren’t home. She only saw Helena and Grizz when they all met for coffee. Luke was with his family, and Harry’s mom and Poppy went to New York and the three of them tried something different, apparently, and celebrated in a suite at some fancy hotel. 

Allie’s a little shocked at this news.

“What?”

Will’s walking towards them and Allie really wants to know more, but she also doesn’t want to gossip, doesn’t want to make Will uncomfortable, and also doesn’t know how to ask him questions without sounding jealous. 

She’s not jealous of Kelly, okay? She’s jealous that they’re committing, or whatever it is they’re doing, despite the distance. Kelly’s in New York and Will’s here and applying to a bunch of places, but…

“You and Kelly, I hear?” she asks when it’s just the two of them and there’s less of a chance he’ll be annoyed at the invasion of privacy. 

He’s smiling even as he shrugs a shoulder. “We sorta got closer this summer.” Allie swallows and nods. That’s familiar. “We’re kinda crazy about each other.”

Allie doesn’t say the shitty thing, which is that they’re doing the opposite of most other high school couples; getting together over Thanksgiving instead of breaking up. 

“You and Harry?” he asks after a few moments. 

She’ll give him credit - he's the only one of her friends who’s had the nerve to talk to her about this. 

She just shakes her head, looks at him. “No.”

He lets it go. They find a spot in the library to work on this assignment they’re paired together for. They may not have worked as a couple, but she does think Will might get her in a way some of their other friends don’t, and she’s glad he’s still around this year, too.

… … …

Allie still babysits Poppy sometimes, so she thinks nothing of it when Karen calls her and asks if she’ll come over Friday after school. Karen says she’s got a commitment she can’t get out of after work, and Allie’s never really needed details or more reason to say yes if she’s available. 

It’s snowing out, and Allie’s always really, really loved this house at the holidays. Part of that was James, she knows now. His warmth and ability to make a fool of himself and still be somehow the most likeable and sweet man. He’d play holiday music and make mulled wine, hot chocolate, and hang the decorations exactly the way Karen wanted them. There’s a tree in the family room like always, but there’re no decorations. Karen says she’s waiting. Allie doesn’t press the issue. The house still smells like warming spices, though, and when Poppy asks if they can bake cookies, Allie figures there’s no harm in it. She pulls out a recipe book at random and finds something that looks easy enough that she won’t fuck it up.

The second batch is coming out of the oven when Allie hears the door from the garage open. She expected Karen to be later, but things change, and she’s not going to question it. 

Harry walks into the kitchen when she’s holding a sheet tray, wearing oven mitts, and the only thing that makes her freak out less is that it’s clear he's surprised to see her here, too. 

Allie sets the tray atop the stove and flings the oven mitts off, throws herself against him as he laughs. He buries his face in her hair, his hand cradling the back of her neck. 

“Your mom set us up,” she says, instead of, like, _hello_. “You’re taller.”

Harry laughs, shakes his head. His lips just barely brush her cheek as he pulls away, and Poppy’s running into the room, putting her arms around him, too. Allie narrows her eyes at the girl. 

She knew about this, too. Allie can _tell_.

He’s got a rolling suitcase to get out of his car, and he’s here for three weeks, and Allie’s a bit annoyed that she has another four days of school next week before she’s off for break. She obviously knew he was coming home for break. They don’t talk on the phone often, or even text all that much, but he tells her the important things and she tells him, too. 

She’s got a three day trip to Florida planned and she’s leaving next Friday. So even though he’ll be here, she’ll be somewhere else for at least part of the time. And she’s excited for her trip, she is. Seeing him, though…

She has this crazy thought of them travelling together. It’ll never happen, but it’s a fun little fantasy, and she remembers before he went to Paris. 

Maybe, really, she just wants to be alone with him. 

He lies on her bed on Tuesday evening, after he’s driven her to and from soccer practice. He’s scrolling through his phone when she walks out of the bathroom after showering. He looks up, sees that she’s in a towel with her hair wrapped, then sets his phone on his chest and stares a little. 

“This is either torture or about to get good.”

“Shut up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Get out so I can get dressed.” He heaves a sigh and gets off her bed, waits in the hall and talks to her through the door as she changes about what movie they’re going to watch after dinner. 

She hears him say, “Hey, Cassandra,” too, and then when Allie opens the door they’re both standing there staring at her. She’s sure she doesn’t look glamorous in her yoga pants and tee shirt, but...

Allie says, “What?”and really just wants them to stop looking at her like that. 

“Put a _bra on_ ,” Cassandra hisses, pulling the door shut again.

Harry says, “Or don’t,” as he laughs, and then, “Ow!”

Allie laughs and figures if this is Cassie’s reaction, her parents’ will be worse. When she pulls the door open again, it’s just Harry there. 

“Your sister ruins everything,” he informs her, and Allie tells him to be nice. 

… … …

She wears a navy blue dress and silver jewelry to his family’s New Years Eve party. They didn’t have one last year, because Karen didn’t want to without James. This year, though, it’s back but a bit of a smaller crowd. It’s sort of just the families of all Harry’s friends, plus some other rich folks Karen knows. Allie’s parents have another party booked already, and Cassandra’s hanging out with Gordie, Bean, Becca and Sam.

Allie pushes through the crowd of people when she sees Grizz walk in. She honestly wasn’t expecting him. His hair’s longer and he’s wearing a red bowtie and he smiles a little when he sees her, too. They catch up a little, and she loops her arm through his and gets a little buzzed on champagne because Harry snuck a few bottles into the study and keeps refilling glasses. 

She ends up alone in there with Harry, his fingers brushing hers as he holds her glass to pour some more for her. 

“This is really pretty,” he says, and she really wonders what he’s talking about. He laughs a little. “You, Allie. You’re pretty.”

“Oh,” she giggles, then sets her glass down because clearly she doesn’t need to keep going at this pace. “I know.” Harry cocks his brow at her. Then he reaches out and runs his fingertips along her collarbone. She realizes he’s touching the chain of the diamond pendant necklace she borrowed from her mom. “What?”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you without the star.”

For some reason it makes her blush. 

He pulls his hand away when Grizz, Helena and Luke walk in, shaking empty glasses in Harry’s direction and talking about how thirsty they are. 

“You’re a bunch of fucking lushes, I swear to god.” 

Allie sits down on the couch in the room and Grizz browses the book shelves, talking about certain titles she’s positive no one else has ever heard of. He asks Harry, carefully, because these are James’ things, if he can borrow one and promises to bring it back, and Harry shrugs and nods. 

Harry stands behind the sofa, sets his hand on her shoulder as they all talk. Helena’s next to her and Luke’s leaning against the desk. 

They miss the countdown, somehow, and so nobody kisses. Harry says something about there not being a girl for Grizz, anyway, and Allie’s pretending to be annoyed that Harry just assumes it’d be the two of them. Then she notices something pass across Grizz’s face that makes her look at him. He shakes his head subtly like it’s nothing, but she’s...There’s a lot she wants to ask. 

“You can’t go home like this,” Harry tells her. “Drunk and alone.”

Allie gives him a look. “Let me guess. Better drunk and in your bed?” she teases, and he tilts his head, considering it. She pushes at his cheek, making him laugh. “I’ll call Cassandra.”

“You could stay.” It’s Helena who says it, even as she’s being led from the room by the hand by Luke. Allie’s sort of stunned. Helena just wags her fingers, says Happy New Year again. 

Harry’s got his phone in his hand, tapping out a text to Cassandra already. “I mean…” he starts when Allie sees what he’s doing. “You won’t, right?”

Allie has a flashback to the summer, to their conversation and almost… _almost_. She shakes her head, even though she still wants him.

When she gets into the car, she’s staring straight ahead and says to her sister, “I’m in love with Harry.”

Cassandra sighs, smiling, and says, “I know, Allie.”

Allie leans her head back against the seat and imagines that other world.

… … …

Nothing changes. It can’t, and she isn’t stupid enough to think any differently. Harry goes back to Princeton, goads her into shoving him and calling him a toad in front of his mother as they say goodbye and he says something ridiculous. Karen didn’t hear what he said, and honestly that’s for the best.

Allie’s last semester of high school is as uneventful as she could’ve possibly imagined. She goes to classes, writes tests and essays and laughs off the suggestion that she should try out for the school play. Like, as an actor. No thanks. That was always Cassandra’s thing, and she doesn’t feel a need to follow in her sister’s footsteps in the same way. One teacher says that if Cassandra had Allie’s athletic ability the world wouldn’t know what hit it, and Allie’s offended enough to tell him that’s a pretty unacceptable thing to say. He says something about her focusing on her marks instead of arguing with teachers. She says something about him focusing on teaching early American history instead of making inappropriate comments to young women. It’s a low blow, but it works. Becca snickers behind her hand and Allie stares at him until he asks her, voice quiet, to take her seat. Her grade will suffer, or at least he’ll try for it, but she’s got witnesses. 

Grizz is the only one who comes home for spring break. Cassandra has a commitment to a group project due when they return, and Harry says something cryptic about studying for a particular midterm and trying to make decisions about his future. Allie doesn’t really know what he means, but even when she asks, he won’t give her more information. 

It’s probably for the best. 

(She’s really good at lying to herself.)

… … ...

Things go to hell in May, when Campbell is arrested for domestic assault.

She’s not, like, famous, but she knows that there’s no way this will stay hidden. He’s a piece of shit of a human and she doesn’t care if her name is attached to his as long as his is dragged through the fucking mud. Apparently his girlfriend, Elle, who Allie only knows from school because the girl’s been in some of her classes, suffered a broken arm, two broken ribs, a black eye and a split lip. It makes Allie a little sick just thinking about it. About it happening to anyone, but specifically someone she knows. Elle keeps to herself, eats lunch alone and has since she started at this school in ninth grade. But it doesn’t matter.

Sam feels like shit. He thinks he should’ve done more. That he saw some signs, but every time he got close to saying something to his brother, Campbell threatened him. Allie knows he kept quiet to save himself pain. She’s not saying she would’ve done the same, but she gets it. And the way she puts it when they’re talking about it, when he’s in her bedroom and his eyes are shining with unshed tears, the same way she can’t take credit for Cassandra’s successes, Sam can’t be blamed for Campbell’s failures. 

After he leaves, to go home to a house where his parents are ashamed and upset and yet still afraid for their kid, Allie finds her face hot with some bizarre combination of rage and terror. She dials Harry, though they haven’t spoken on the phone since Valentine’s Day, when he called her playing that song from Say Anything and laughing in the background because she thinks that’s a shit movie and a shit gesture that isn’t romantic at all. 

“Hey!” he says, sounding way too happy, and that wrenches her stomach and makes tears fall from her eyes. 

“Did you hear about Campbell?” 

She’s asking in part because she wants to know if it’s gotten as far as New Jersey (though she highly doubts it) or if any of their mutual friends have told him. 

“Who?”

She rolls onto her eyes. “My cousin. The fucked up one who punched you.”

“Oh. Right. What about him?”

She almost sighs her relief, before realizing now she’s got to tell him what’s happened. He sounds furious, even though he doesn’t seem to know or remember Elle. He tells her about a patient of his dad’s who came to New Ham to be closer to family after the guy she’d married separated her from them and then started some really abusive shit. He doesn’t go into details. She doesn’t want them. 

“Men are shit,” she says, and means it, and Harry doesn’t even argue. If he ‘not all men’-ed her, she’d understand, almost, but he doesn’t do it. 

He just says, “We’re the fucking worst.”

Smiling, finally, she teases, “One Women’s Studies class and…”

“Shut up,” he chuckles. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” She’s tired, suddenly. She didn’t realize it’d gotten so late. She didn’t realize it was so late when she called. She’s almost surprised he answered. 

(No, she’s not.)

“I miss you.”

She pushes a hand into her hair at the crown of her head, says, “Duh,” because anything else seems too heavy, even for this conversation. 

Then, pleadingly, almost; “Allie.”

“I miss you, too.” 

… … …

She takes exams early, because she has to report to camp and start school as soon as possible. It isn’t a surprise and she’s obviously known it all along, since before she even committed to a school. So she wasn’t expecting to feel any kind of way about it. And yet she’s crying as she boards the plane. Because she’s missing graduation, and prom, and any end of the year parties. She really thought she’d be fine with it, because she’s _excited_ , but now, as it’s all real, and as she’s literally being put on a plane and sent off to college, she’s fucking terrified and can’t stop thinking of all the things she’s missing. 

When the cab drops her off on campus and she’s met by a senior on the team, she glances up at the building that houses her dorm and tries to listen to Adelina, but she’s distracted. They get her three suitcases up to the room, and Adelina tells her that her roommate is a girl named Maya who’s from Miami and who’s arriving tomorrow. She offers to help Allie with her bags, and Allie accepts, mostly because she doesn’t want to be an asshole, not because she thinks she really needs it. 

They’re talking about camp, and Allie wants to know what she should expect. Adelina says something about it not being so bad as long as you’re in shape, and Allie’s been playing soccer year round for years, so she thinks she’ll be okay. Adelina tells her last year one of the girls showed up after an injury and not playing for months and threw up on the first day. 

They get some of Allie’s things put away - enough that she can push one of her suitcases under the bed, anyway - and then head to join some of the other girls for dinner. Allie thinks they’ll go to the dining hall, but they end up at Chipotle, which she notes is just a short walk from their dorm. There’s a group of 9 of them, and Allie’s nerves settle when they all get along and seem to welcome her. So far, she’s one of only two freshmen - the last one to arrive will be Maya. 

“Boyfriend?” one girl - Ashley - asks her when Grizz texts her a meme. 

“No,” Allie laughs, shaking her head. “Friend. I’m single.”

“Good,” Ashley replies. “Guys are a distraction and like, usually not worth the time.”

Allie chuckles and sort of thinks that’s true. At least for right now. She can’t imagine juggling all this and a relationship. She’s having a hard enough time with her friends, her sister, her grandparents and her parents. She’s been busy since she arrived, but she’s managed to text everyone. 

In her bed, alone and feeling weirdly scared, she texts Harry that it’s hot as hell and her day was insane. 

He calls, which she should’ve expected. As soon as she says hello, he says, “What are you wearing?” and she thinks it’s a joke, mostly, and it’s certainly predictable. 

But she replies, “Just underwear,” and then there’s a quiet breath on the line. “Harry.”

“Allie.”

She laughs softly, regretting telling him anything. 

“My roommate isn’t here yet. I’m...freaking out. I’ve never slept alone before.” 

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?” he asks, teasing, and Allie can’t help imagining falling asleep next to him. 

“Will you?” She rolls onto her side, smiling. 

“No,” he chuckles. There’s a pause and she smells home on her sheets, which is comforting. “It’s gonna suck not having you around this summer.”

“Yeah,” she says, and grins. “You miss me kinda bad, hey?”

Harry just hums, which sparks something in her body she’s become quite familiar with when she speaks to him. Is around him. Looks at him. 

“Let’s not pretend you don’t wanna be with me.” Allie freezes. He waits a moment before making a joke of it. “I mean, who wouldn’t?”

She laughs because she’s supposed to. 

“Mhm.” Despite how ridiculous he’s being, she does feel more calm. “I should sleep. Text you tomorrow?”

When he says, “Goodnight,” her eyes slip closed, but not because she’s tired. It’s because she does want him. But this is nothing new. 

She thinks about what Ashley said to her earlier about guys not being worth the distraction. God, if she could fully convince herself of that…


	6. Chapter 6

She doesn’t play at all the first three games of the season, and she’s trying not to be a shit about it. She couldn’t have ever expected to. But she’s never been on a team that she wasn’t a starter on, and so sitting on the bench and handing out Gatorade and water and chatting through plays and trying to be useful is unfamiliar. She can’t be a brat about this because that won’t get her anywhere. 

Anyway, she’s frustrated and trying to focus on writing an essay for her English class when Harry sends her a picture of him, Grizz, Luke and Helena lounging in Luke’s backyard. Allie tears up, wishing she could be there. She’s sort of overwhelmed with it. She’s in the fucking _library_ and wiping tears away from her cheeks because this stupid guy from her stupid hometown sent her a photo. This is dumb. Everything is dumb. 

But like, this essay doesn’t care about her emotions. Her coach does, but isn’t going to put her in a game situation just because she _wants_ it. She doesn’t actually have time for this. 

She doesn’t respond to him. 

She drops her stuff off at the dorm, then heads to practice early and does 20 minutes of weight training mostly to occupy her hands and quiet her brain. She listens to music with the volume way up - a playlist Cassandra made her - and only stops to go run drills with the team. 

She’s still ridiculously frustrated when she gets back to her room. Her roommate, who’s always trying to get her to come out with her, is sitting at her desk contouring her face when Allie turns to her. 

“Can I come?” she asks, just assuming that Maya’s getting ready for that purpose. 

Maya’s eyes gleam in a way that almost scares Allie, but she says, “If you wear something hot and let me do your hair.”

She ends up in a burgundy crop top she borrows from Brittany and a pair of tight jeans, with strappy sandals on her feet and her hair pin straight. She almost doesn’t look like herself. She considers taking a photo and sending it to Harry, but what she does instead is post a video to her stories of her and her friends dancing when Billie Eilish comes on in this bar they’re in. 

Cassandra texts her, _’YOUR HAIR!’_ and Allie laughs as she types out a response. 

Harry comments, _Hot._

She grins to herself and keeps dancing. She’s had a couple shots but she isn’t drunk. This whole evening is helping her to feel like her beginning of college is at least slightly normal. Which is not how it usually feels. 

… … …

She must be the stupidest girl in the world, honestly. 

Look, she didn’t expect Harry to be celibate, or something. She knows that guys that look like him, that act like him...There was no world in which he’d go to college and not have his pick of girls. 

But the way she finds out is in a throwaway line about this girl he was ‘talking to’ in his second semester, and Allie freezes and just stares at him. She’s lying on her bed with her phone propped up on the wall like usual. He’s in his room in West Ham just watching her. He seems to realize, after just a few moments, what he’s said. 

“It wasn’t...We were just dating.” 

Allie scoffs. She can just imagine what that means. She also thinks she’s probably overreacting, but also that it’s a little fucked up that he didn’t say anything about it while it was happening. Like, all the times they texted or chatted on the phone or whatever, he could’ve been just dating this girl? Is that why he didn’t answer sometimes? 

She’s being really stupid. Truly. They’re not together and they’ve never been together. There’s no reason in the world why either one of them couldn’t or shouldn’t date people. And it’s not that Allie’s been _not_ dating people like, actively. She was in high school where she knew everyone, and now she’s been thrown into college and college athletics and trying to balance things so she doesn’t lose her fucking mind. 

“Well, was she as cute as me?” is what she asks, because he’d told her at the top of this call that she looked adorable all curled up in bed. It seems safe, but it also seems like a way to get answers to questions she has no business asking. 

(Like who the girl was, and why did he like her, and how did they end it.)

Harry looks like he can see right through her. “No,” he answers, and she thinks he’s being honest. 

… … …

This thing where there’s no seasons is weird as hell. She’s used to it being cool by now - to needing a sweater. Here, she’s still in a tank top because if she goes to practice in sleeves she’ll overheat and inevitably end up in just her bra anyway. 

She’s heading back to the dorm because her morning class was cancelled and she didn’t get the email until she was already on her way. She stopped in at the library, but couldn’t focus. So she decided to treat herself to a cappuccino and maybe watch an episode of this cooking show she likes before trying to do some more work. 

What happens is she falls asleep, then nukes her cappuccino as she rushes to get her shit together for practice, and it doesn’t taste nearly as good as it did before, but it doesn’t matter. She chucks it into the bin in the locker room, and sits down next to Ashley as she pulls on her cleats. 

Coach tells her she’ll be starting next game. Allie knows it’s because their hopes at a title run are completely off the table, so there’s nothing really to lose. She cares about that, truly, but she also cares about her own development and getting more playing time than the few minutes here and there that she’s gotten all season. 

She goes an entire seven days without feeling either angry or homesick, and that feels like a win, too.

… … …

Harry tells her he’s going be a lawyer. Like his mom. She honestly thought he’d choose medicine, like his dad, but he says he just really can’t see himself as a doctor, but he likes arguing with people and being right. He’s joking, she thinks. Maybe. 

“It’s gonna be hard,” he tells her, and she knows that. She’s starting to think about a major, too, and career mapping and all that. 

“You can do it,” she says, very sincerely. “Smartest person I know, remember?” 

Harry laughs, says, “Thanks, Allie,” and she thinks maybe some of the other conversations he’s had like this one didn’t go so well. 

On a whim, a couple days later, she calls Karen for a chat. Because it’s been ages and she thinks it’ll be nice. The absolute pride she can hear in Karen’s voice when they’re talking about Harry’s choice makes Allie smile. 

Then Poppy comes on the line and she’s talking about school, too, and god, that kid makes Allie laugh so hard. 

… … ...

She sleeps with Nick because he’s cute. If she had a better reason, she’d say so. He’s a baseball player, and she sees him in the gym sometimes, and then once, when she’s walking to class, he smiles at her and it makes her feel _good_.

She’s getting dressed after, and it’s the middle of the day, which feels a little ridiculous. Her mind’s racing, thinking about how long it’s been since she slept with anyone, and how he’s only the second guy she’s been with, and what does it say about her if she doesn’t really feel any strong emotional ties, or whatever? 

“Heartbreaker,” he says, hand on his chest, as she pulls her shirt over her head and tugs her hair free at the back. He’s teasing. Or if he isn’t, he’s trying to make it seem like he is.

He’s not the first guy to use that word to describe her.

“I have class,” she lies. It’s too easy to do it. He doesn’t seem to clock it. “I’ll see you around?”

He holds up his phone, cocks a brow. She knows exactly what’s going to happen if she gives him her number. She doesn’t really know if she wants to have sex with him again, but it’s not a hard no, either. 

She takes it from him, and as she types in her number, she says, “I’m like, really intense and busy and probably not ideal if you want this to be a regular thing.”

He sort of squints at her like she’s surprising him. “I’ve never been the one getting the brush off before.”

Allie rolls her eyes and really isn’t interested in soothing his ego right now. “You can text me,” she says, because consent is important.

… … …

She FaceTimes with her family for Thanksgiving dinner, and feels equal parts grown up and left out for not being there, at her grandparents house with the table overflowing with food. Cassandra is there in a burnt orange shirt dress and a pretty braid in her hair. Allie’s sitting on her bed in sweats with a plate of Thanksgiving dinner from the cafeteria. She stays on the call until the fire is lit in the fireplace. 

Harry sends her a picture taken from his front lawn - the smoke coming from her grandparents’ chimney - and she loves him a little for knowing how much it means to her. 

… … …

Sometimes she and Nick just sleep together, but she learns he’s sort of good company, too, and so if he asks her out to dinner or something, she usually says yes. And it’s not like he’s wining and dining her, or anything, but eating food that doesn’t come from the cafeteria always feels like a treat. This burger place he says is amazing is pretty quiet when they walk in, and it takes her fifteen minutes to decide what she wants, because the menu is huge and there are so many different topping options. 

Allie’s just looking at him across the table, sort of smiling at him. 

“What?” he asks with a laugh and Allie blinks slowly. 

“You’re sorta hot.”

Chuckling, he says, “Thanks,” and gives her a look that makes her want to take him home. 

Having a roommate is kind of bullshit. She thinks Maya is one of her best friends here, but she still wishes for more privacy than she has. 

“What’s your deal?” he asks as they walk back to campus. She’s got a package of peanut butter cups in her room that she seriously can’t wait to eat. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’d be with you if you wanted,” he says, and god, it’s so easy for him. He sounds so sure of it. It scares the shit out of her. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want a relationship. 

Or maybe just not one with him. 

She stops walking. “Nick.”

He smiles a little at her, but still looks at least a bit hurt. “It’s okay. You don’t have to let me down easy.” She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she just falls back into step next to him, and tucks her hands into her back pockets. “You didn’t answer the question.”

She wants to volley back that he sort of threw a curveball at her before she knew what he was really asking. 

She shrugs, not really wanting to get into it. Or maybe more accurately, not wanting to think about it at all. 

“I’m just trying to focus on soccer and school.” It’s a lame answer. He waits a beat before responding. 

“Are you sure you’re not hung up on someone else?” He says it with a tone that lets her know he’s been in this position before. He’s had this happen with someone else. 

She’s thinking of another guy, hoping Nick won’t call her on the lie when she says, “No.”

… … … 

Connecticut as cold as fuck. 

She wakes up in her bedroom at her parents’ house, an extra quilt pulled up to her chin and the hoodie she slept in pulled down over her hands.

She does not expect the first people she sees come into her room to be Grizz and Becca. She honestly has never really seen these two alone together in the first place, but she can’t help letting out how happy she is to see them. Grizz flops onto her bed and Becca gets under the covers. Allie says something about needing body heat to stay warm in this godforsaken state. 

They both update her on their travels home and what they’re up to. Becca’s been in West Ham for two days and Grizz got in yesterday morning. They want to go to brunch, and maybe Sam will come, and then Allie’s door opens again and Cassandra is standing there smiling. 

Allie’s eating her weight in french toast, washing it down with bad coffee, when Harry pulls up outside in his Maserati. Allie ignores the weird smiles on her friends’ faces, and pushes at Cassandra’s hip so she’ll move. Cassandra has to shoves Sam out of the booth, too, so Allie can get up. 

Despite complaining so much of the cold, she runs outside without her jacket on so she can throw her arms around Harry. He laughs and holds her tightly, calls her crazy, and Allie thinks it’s absolutely insane that she hasn’t seen him in _a year_.

“You look _good_ ,” she says, her hands on his face. Their breath is coming out in puffs and Harry gestures towards the door. 

“I know,” he tells her, but it’s not obnoxious at all. She looks at him over her shoulder to let him know she appreciates that tone, that confidence. 

How is he _more attractive_?

Allie slides back into the booth and Harry hugs everyone, including Cassandra, to say hello. He sits down next to Becca, who’s looking at Allie as if she’s thinking the same thing about his looks. She wonders how he knew they were here, then she sees the look on her sister’s face. Cassandra invited him. Because she cares about Allie and Allie cares about him. She puts her arms around her sister upon realizing this, and Cassandra just leans her head against Allie’s. 

They’re sort of loud and annoying, but none of the other patrons really seem to care. This place is frequented mostly by old people who seem pleased by their youth, or whatever. 

After paying their bills, they all stand, and Harry takes his keys from his pocket, shakes them in her direction, and says, “Come for a drive?”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, tells Allie to go, and that she’ll update their parents. 

Harry waits until everyone else has pulled out of the parking lot before leaning his forearm on the steering wheel and turning to her. She’s about to ask him what he’s looking at. 

“You look grown up.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “It’s only been a year.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. He’s serious. She watches him. “It’s really hot.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. She’s seen it before. She knows what it is. This time, she’s not immediately shoving it away, playing it off as a joke, or feeling any reason why she should do either of those things. 

She sets her hand over his on the gear shift, and likes the little smirk on his face as he puts the car in drive. 

… … …

Here are the reasons why she thinks they should just sleep together:

1) A week into their break, she realizes he’s the only person she’s seen almost as much as her own family. He had a movie night at his house with a small group of friends and he’d put his hand on her thigh under a blanket. They’d spent an afternoon Christmas shopping with Poppy for something for his mom. He’d come over to her grandparents’ house to ‘help’ with baking, which meant eating things warm from the oven and making her grandma laugh.

2) She’s never been more attracted to him, sure, but she’s also never been more sure of his attraction to her. He’s not hiding it very well. He’s not even trying. It’s crazy how much she loves that. 

3) They both know what this is, now. She’s got no hopes that it’ll be a _relationship_ , and while she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t still have some feelings for him, it doesn’t feel the same as before. She’s got a whole life that isn’t in West Ham, and so does he. This almost feels like a stopover place, not a place where she’ll be stuck, missing him. 

4) She _can’t stop_ thinking about sleeping with him. 

She fully plans on making this case to him when she goes to his house the day after Christmas. Karen smiles at her when she walks in, says Harry’s in his room, and asks Allie to let him know she and Poppy are leaving now to head to a movie. 

When Allie steps into his room, he’s lying back on his bed with a book open, wearing a grey sweater and dark jeans, and she honestly thinks it’s insane that he just _looks like this_. Like, he’s not even trying. 

Then the corner of his mouth quirks upward when he sees her, and Allie pushes the door closed behind her. 

“Hey,” he says, and sets the book aside. 

“Hey.” She sort of breathes it out, then walks over to his bed, and moves on top of him, leans down and puts her hands on his face. He’s just lying there beneath her, and she worries she’s making a mistake, but then he wets his bottom lip and reaches up to push her hair back with his hand. 

He says her name, but she shakes her head and kisses him. 

Sex with Harry far exceeds her expectations. 

Not that she’s got a wealth of other experience, but this just feels _better_ overall. He knows her well enough to know how he can touch her. There’s nothing hesitant or shy about it, but they’re not rushing, either. She sucks in a breath when he kisses down her body, and presses her head back when he says something hot but kind of filthy. She _likes it_. It’s the most she’s ever enjoyed sex, and it’s not a surprise, really, but it is very, very welcome. She also likes that she can tell he wants this - has wanted it - and that it almost feels like _relief_. 

“I had a whole speech prepared,” she tells him after, when she’s lying on his chest and his fingers are playing with her hair. He lets out a breathy laugh. “But then I got distracted.”

He presses a kiss to her head, shifts a little, which somehow presses them closer together. 

“Did you really think you’d have to convince me?” he asks quietly, and she thinks he’s being serious. “Where’ve you been the last like, four years?”

“I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t thought it through.”

He moves, then, so he’s leaning mostly over her, and his hand is on her hip under the blankets as he looks down at her. 

“You should definitely tell me more about that.” He kisses her hotly, making her arch towards him. “About the thinking about me.”

His hand moves between her legs and she loses her words. 

… … …

The morning of her flight back to Florida, Harry shows up at the house and she leads him up to her bedroom so they can have some privacy for their goodbye. She still doesn’t close the door, because her parents haven’t let her know of any changes to the house rules, despite the fact that she and Cassandra are both out on their own now. 

Either way, it doesn’t stop Harry from kissing her hard, drawing her close to him. 

Before she can say anything - and she thinks he knows she was about to make some stupid comment - he presses his forehead against hers. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he breathes out, eyes closed. Allie thinks, somehow, that this may be the goodbye they didn’t get to have before she left to start school. It makes her heart beat hard in her chest. “I know you have to, but.”

Allie takes a deep breath, hands on his sides. “You’re going, too.”

“Don’t make this about me,” he says, completely teasing. She’s about to remind him he loves being the centre of attention, when he kisses her again. “This break...you and me…”

Allie smiles up at him. “It was kind of the best.” He nods, says nothing. “Aren’t you glad I climbed on top of you?”

Harry says, “Baby,” which she’s learned, over the course of the last week or so, is a thing he likes to call her when they’re having sex or about to. 

Not that they’re about to now. So that’s new. But he’s definitely thinking about it, and that has to count. (She’s not going to entertain the thought of it being anything else.)

… … …

She tells Maya, because she wants to tell someone, and letting anyone from home know seems complicated and something close to embarrassing. They’ll all know that it’s something she wanted all along, and they’ll all act like this means she and Harry are _a thing_ now, which they’re not, and they’re not going to be. The only one she almost trusts to get it is Grizz, but she also thinks it’s a little unfair to burden him with this thing that he can’t talk to anyone else about. 

She sort of leaves out their whole _entire_ history. She boils it down to just Harry being a friend from high school who she got close with and had feelings for when she was a junior and he was a senior. Maya makes note of that Princeton tee shirt Allie wears sometimes, and Allie shrugs her shoulder trying to play it off. Like it’s totally normal friend behaviour. 

And anyway, Maya doesn’t really seem surprised. It’s not like Allie has a ton of privacy in this tiny room. So when she talks to him, sometimes her roommate is around. He’s got a studio apartment off campus now. She doesn’t have the same luxury. 

He texts her one night when it’s dark and she should be sleeping but she’s watching Netflix on her phone instead. He says he’s thinking about her. It makes her face flush and her stomach flutter, but she doesn’t respond until the next morning. 

… … …

School feels a lot different now that she’s not juggling practice and games and travel plus all her classes. She isn’t even sure she thinks it’s easier. She’s staying in shape, but it feels really weird that this is the first time she’s gone more than a month or so without playing since she was way younger. She starts watching NFL games because she likes watching people who are excellent at what they do, even though she’s never really cared about football before. Honestly, the only time she ever really paid attention was when she went to games in high school to support Grizz. 

Cassandra thinks it’s hilarious and says that Allie should probably ‘think about what it means that she needs to fill her brain with some kind of sport in order to stay sane’. It’s an exaggeration Allie doesn’t appreciate, but she’s not ready to have that fight. 

Harry calls her one night when she’s doing an assignment, and she forgets to call him back. He sends her a kind of irritated text the next day and she rings him back and apologizes. 

“I was worried,” he says, and he’s being sincere. Allie thinks it’s sweet, but also it’s not like they have to keep tabs on one another all the time. 

“Why were you worried?”

“I dunno.” There’s a pause and he probably wants her to just let it go, but she just waits. “You usually call back.”

She thinks what he wanted to say is that she usually answers. Both these statements are true. But the thing he didn’t say is truer. She tries to put herself in his shoes. It doesn’t take much - she’s absolutely called or texted before and not gotten a response. She was annoyed more than worried. She always just assumed he was doing other things and ignoring her. She didn’t jump straight to thinking something was wrong. Given his history of making stupid choices when he’s overwhelmed, she thinks maybe she has more grounds to worry than he does. 

But she doesn’t say that, either. 

He tells her his statistics class is a bitch and she laughs and tells him that’s a class Cassandra loved when she took it last term. He makes a snide comment about Cassandra liking shitty things, and Allie, feeling defensive and a little silly, reminds him that Cassandra likes _her_.

“You’re the one thing we can agree on,” he tells her, and Allie smiles to herself, knowing there’s a lot of truth to that. “The only time we’ve worked together was to help you. And that one time in AP Bio when we had to dissect the thing and I almost threw up.”

Allie laughs, remembering how Cassandra had told her about it and how Harry then told the story. He tells her to _stop_ and she apologizes but doesn’t stop, and she can hear him smiling on the line when he tells her she’s the worst. 

“You don’t mean that,” she says.

He confirms it with a grunt, and Allie keeps laughing. 

… … …

For spring break, she’s built herself a schedule that includes a set number of hours each day to spend on assignments and writing this essay she’s got due. She also buys a new two piece and gets a manicure and pedicure with part of the money her parents sent her to treat herself to something over the break. 

Ashley plans a day trip to the beach, and a few of them get into her car and listen to music way too loudly on the drive. Harry FaceTimes her when she tells him she’s at the beach with friends and she thinks he’s joking when he asks if any of them are hot. 

“What’s with your hair?” he asks, grinning widely. Right. It’s sort of windblown from driving with the windows down, and she hasn’t really bothered to do anything with it since they got to the beach. She’s sipping from a vodka cooler, because why not, and wearing watermelon lip balm. 

She thinks, truly, that he’s just jealous he’s not in nicer weather. 

(Or, specifically, here with her.) 

“Nothing,” she says, smiling, leaning back on her elbow on her beach towel. “Probably it looks good.” 

Something flashes across his face that she can absolutely read, now that she’s spent a decent amount of time naked with him. It makes her feel sort of warm all over, but she just shakes her head at him. 

“You have a shitty poker face, Bingham.” He grins at her, and she pulls her eyes away for a moment to see her friends acting kind of like idiots in the surf. Not in a bad way. They’re having fun. Allie’s content to just lie here in the sun, drinking and talking to her friend. 

“Maybe I’m cool with you knowing what I’m thinking.”

Laughing, she says, “Only when you’re thinking about sex.”

“Not only then,” he mumbles, but Allie chooses not to dwell on that. 

Honestly, this stupid flirting thing they do from like a thousand miles apart is cute and fun and whatever, but she refuses to let herself believe it’s anything more than it is. They’re friends, always, and now they’ve slept together, and they haven’t talked about what that means, and she thinks, maybe, that means it doesn’t have to mean anything. She isn’t surprised by that, and she’s not bothered by it, really. It is what it is. She actually kind of loves that they’re mature enough that it doesn’t have to be a big thing. It isn’t making it hard to talk to one another. 

And selfishly, she really, really loves knowing that he wants her. God, if this had been last year, she would’ve been freaking out, wondering how they were going to be together. Now, though, it’s almost like having sex is just like, another thing they’ve done together that fits into the timeline of their friendship. 

She absolutely knows if she tried to explain that to anyone, they wouldn’t get it. Cassandra would tell her she’s fooling herself. Helena would laugh and call her stupid for flip flopping on her feelings. Grizz would probably…Well, he wouldn’t judge, but he’d probably say something intense about it. And Allie doesn’t want that. And she likes that this is just something that’s between her and Harry. No one else needs to know. People’ve been speculating and talking about them for years, and she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with having something just for them. 

“C’mon,” he says, sort of almost whining. Somehow he makes it work. “Gimme the full body shot.”

“Don’t be gross!” she protests, and the look on his face is positively wicked. 

“Shy? Really?”

Allie rolls her eyes and sighs and says, “I’m only doing this because I actually really love this bathing suit and it’s my first time wearing it.” She pauses and he’s looking at her like she’s a bad liar, but he finds it amusing. “Nothing to do with your like, neverending desire for me.”

He laughs out loud, and he’s still laughing when she moves her phone so he can, indeed, see all of her. It’s only for a second and then she focuses back on her face. 

“Want me to take my shirt off so we can call it even?” 

Allie’s shaking her head as she says no, but she thinks he can see that she absolutely kind of wants to say yes. 

“I’m gonna go.”

“I get it. I’m too much for you,” he teases, and god, he’s gotta know she’s way too competitive to just let that slide. 

“Not hardly.” The look on his face is truly hilarious, and Allie wiggles her fingers, says, “Bye, Harry.” 

He smiles before he says goodbye. Allie finishes her drink quickly and grabs another, and her friends ask her what she’s thinking about when they flop down next to her on their towels. 

She’s not exactly ready to confess she’s thinking of her best friend naked, so she just asks how the water is, instead. 

… … …

It’s sort of a fucking cliché, okay? But then again, her relationship with every guy she’s ever kissed has been a cliché in some way or another. 

Simon joins a study group for their gender and pop culture class. She’s in the Monday lecture and he’s in Wednesday’s, but they’re encouraged to all study together, or whatever. This is one of Allie’s favourite classes, despite how frustrating it can be to talk a bunch of white dudes out of thinking that feminism is bad and the girls in the group talk too much. 

Simon tells one of the worst offenders not to interrupt people when they’re talking, and that’s the first time Allie notices him. 

She learns, later, that he noticed her first. 

She doesn’t even really register that he’s asking her to hang out when he suggests they get together to go over the coursework. Like, that’s...what a study group is. But then he says he knows a really great coffee shop off campus that has a student discount but hardly any students go to, and asks if she’s free Saturday morning. She isn’t, because she works out with the team, but offers up a different time and he’s pretty eager to go. 

Saturday afternoon when she’s on her way, he texts to say he’s early and asks what he can get her. When she sits down, there’s a cup of tea and a couple cookies sitting on a plate, and he looks kind of cute about it. 

The first time he kisses her is two weeks later, when they’re on campus, eating bad pizza and sitting across from each other. She sort of hates that it’s so public, but she also sort of likes him and the way he smiles at her as she talks about this drill she wants to try in practice. He leans up, hands braced on the table, and presses his lips to hers. She knows she’s smiling as he sits back down, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

… … …

Simon’s fingers play with hers as the light pours through the window in his apartment. It’s a small place, but he lives alone and has a double bed, so they’ve ended up here instead of her dorm room. Last night was nice, and going to this open mic thing he was telling her about was sort of sweet. He’d bought peanut butter cookies from a bakery he likes, and then managed to buy them each a beer at this bar when he noticed they weren’t carding. They sat shoulder to shoulder, beer and cookies gone by the time the third act took the stage. Allie had giggled at a comedian’s joke about Floridians, and Simon had leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder. 

It was a great date. Their fifth, or something. Ending up at his place felt good and right and not too fast. 

“You’re really cute,” he says, thumb brushing the length of her index finger, then back down. 

She can’t say she’s ever been called cute when she was naked with someone. 

She thinks about Harry and all the words he has for her. Cute’s rarely been one of them. 

It’s stupid that she’s thinking of him when she’s with this guy, so she tries to stop. 

Tries.

… … …

She calls Harry one Friday evening when she’s bored and stir crazy and trying to focus on her assigned reading when everyone else is going out and having fun. Usually when Maya is out, Allie relishes the peace and quiet and alone time, but right now, she hates it and wishes she had someone to let distract her. 

“Allie,” he answers, sounding drunk just saying her name. It’s loud wherever he is and he tells her to wait, then moments later he’s in the quiet. “Hi.”

He sounds happy to hear from her, which is nice. She doesn’t know why she didn’t think he’d be out. Doesn’t know why it bothers her that he is. It’s truly stupid. 

“Where are you?”

“Jake’s,” he answers, which means nothing to her and if he knows that, he doesn’t let on. Allie feels very far away. Can feel her throat getting tight. Hates herself for how emotional she is. “Why’re you calling me on a Friday night?” She breathes out a laugh. “Thought you were more popular than this.”

“How do you know I’m not out?”

She can hear his smile - the one he has when he’s reminding her he _knows her_ \- as he says, “You’re all quiet, like you get when you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not...That’s not what I’m doing.” 

“ _Classic_ Pressman defence.” He’s teasing. She’s not in the mood. He must be able to tell. “You okay?” She’s nodding, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know why she feels so _lonely_. It’s just a thing that hits her in waves sometimes. “Hey.”

“Yeah,” she answers quickly. She laughs at herself. “I’m...feeling sorry for myself.”

She closes her eyes when he breathes out a laugh. 

“Missing me?” he asks, and she’s vaguely annoyed he’s making it about him. 

“Caught me. Can’t go on without you. Please do more to centre yourself here.” Okay, maybe more than vaguely annoyed. They’re both quiet. She breaks first, says, “Sorry. That’s...I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought talking to you would make me feel better.”

He waits a beat. “And it’s not?”

He sounds hurt. This is dumb. 

“I think I was hoping you’d be home so I could complain about my reading and you could convince me to watch a movie with you instead.” She smiles, then, because that very thing has happened a few times in the past. Maybe it really is what she wanted. 

(Maybe she does miss him.) 

“Sorry.” He almost sounds like he means it. Someone in the background shouts something and then there’s a chorus of cheers. “I get being randomly sad,” he tells her, and she knows he’s being truthful. “Wanna hear about this stupid party? I think someone just got naked.”

Allie laughs, lies back on her bed, then rolls onto her side, the phone tucked between her ear and the pillow. 

“Five minutes,” she tells him. “Then you go back to having fun and I’ll go back to reading.”

Allie didn’t realize her breathing had gotten all fast until he’s talking, telling her this ridiculous story, and notices it’s returning to a normal cadence. 

… … …

He sends a selfie the next day, where he looks worse for wear, hair all over the place, eyes half closed against the sun. Allie sends him a photo of her to-do list with everything checked off. He replies back _show off_ and she sends him an angel emoji. 

… … …

Simon tags her in a photo on Instagram and it makes her uncomfortable. It’s nothing big, just their books on the grass when they decided to sit outside to read together. There’s a lemon iced tea and a can of cold brew in the shot. The caption says _Studying with Allie_ and she’s tagged. 

She feels awkward and shitty explaining to him that she sort of has a lot of followers and she doesn’t want her personal life to be on display on the internet for a bunch of strangers to speculate about. He seems to get it, untags her but leaves the photo up, and that’s fine - she doesn’t mind. She’s not in it. 

He doesn’t call her on the fact that her feed isn’t exactly all soccer, all the time. There’re photos of her with her friends on the team, and from home. There’s one from over the holidays, of her and Harry. They’re wearing their parkas and she’s looking miserable, just her eyes and the bridge of her nose visible, and Harry’s hair windblown and cheeks pink, grinning as he throws up a peace sign. She’d captioned it _there’re two kinds of people in the winter_ and Harry’d commented with the sunglasses emoji. 

(She remembers the photo was taken two days after they slept together for the first time. She remembers going inside his house and him peeling off her layers, teasing her about shivering, and then looking at her darkly when she’d shuddered as his thumb ghosted her hip bone.) 

… … …

“I’m dating someone,” she tells Cassandra, and there’s silence, then a little squeal, and Allie rolls her eyes as she smiles. She’s polishing her toenails orange - all the girls are, for a silly team bonding thing Allie secretly loves - her phone on speaker, and Maya’s across the room with her noise cancelling headphones on. 

“Who?”

“His name’s Simon. It’s been…” No matter how she frames the timeline, she knows Cassandra would be bothered that she’s just hearing about it now. “It wasn’t casual or anything, but we just talked about it and he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Honestly, he’s really kind of stupidly cute. It was really sweet, the way he’d told her he isn’t seeing anyone else and doesn’t want to. She realized she doesn’t want to, either. It’s going well, with them. He’s good to her, understands that she’s here for soccer and to get an education. He’s here on a single scholarship and a bunch of student loans, and he’s working his ass off. He works in the campus bookstore during the school year, and does private tutoring, and Allie just sort of really appreciates his work ethic. 

“Wait. So you’re not just dating, you have a _boyfriend_.” Allie almost wants to ask if there’s a difference, but Cassie’s sounding way too happy and she doesn’t want to ruin it. “What’s he like?”

Allie tells Cassandra about him, and what they’re like together, and sends her a picture of him. Allie’d taken it one day when he was studying and had this cute little wrinkle between his brows. Then Cassandra wants to see one of them together, so Allie sends the only one she has, which is them lying on his bed, both of them blonde-headed and blue eyed against his dark sheets. They’re wearing clothes, so it feels less weird, but it does feel sort of like she’s ruining this intimate thing by sharing it with her sister. Sort of how she feels about this whole thing, to be honest. 

But it’s good and it’s going well and she really likes him. It doesn’t feel like the kind of thing she needs to keep to herself. 

Maybe she’s told Cassandra because she figures her sister will tell everyone else and Allie won’t have to. It’s childish, but she feels so stupid breaking this news, like she’s a kid sharing an accomplishment she’s not sure she should be proud of. It’s like this is a thing she knows everyone’s wanted for her, and as much as she really wishes she could just _not_ have people freaking out about it, she knows it’s not fair. Her mom’ll be thrilled and her dad’ll have mixed feelings and her grandparents will want her to be happy. 

And she is.

Simon kind of dotes on her, and not in an annoying way. Not like he thinks he has to be nice or she won’t be interested. He’s just genuinely sweet, and the way he treats her makes her feel good. He’s the kind of guy who fills your water glass when he’s getting up to get something, even if it’s not empty. He bought her a toothbrush for his place. He tossed her clothes in with his when she ended up staying the whole weekend at his place, so she wouldn’t have to go home for a change of clothes before classes on Monday. And he doesn’t insist on paying for everything. They take turns when they go out, and they’ve sort of made a game of figuring out things to do for free or cheap. It’s _fun_.

When he tells her, so sincerely, that he’s crazy about her, she finds it easy to smile and kiss him and be flattered that he _means it_.


	7. Chapter 7

Simon’s staying in Gainesville for the summer. She learns this when he asks her what her training schedule’s like, and she tells him she’s got a two week break before she’s back in practice and taking a small roster of classes. He mentions he’s got a job lined up at a fine dining place, so he’ll be around, too. 

She’s happy about it. She likes the idea of him being around when she has a little more time for him. He says, “Girls have always been jealous of how easily I tan.” 

Allie laughs. “I’ve been outside every sunny day playing soccer since I was like, 10. I can tan.”

He smiles, hooks his arm around her waist, presses his lips to her temple. “I bet you can. I’ve also seen your collection of bikinis.” Allie lets out a breath. It’s...He’s so sweet, but then sometimes downright hot. Then he teases her, saying, “I mean, do you get that weird soccer socks tan, or…”

He’s laughing when she shoves him away.

Her grandma sounds excited on the phone, and Allie smiles and thanks her for paying for the plane ticket home. She doesn’t have to - Allie’s parents were expecting the expense. But her grandparents insisted and also want to pick her up at the airport. Allie’s traveling light, and thankful that it’s summer and she can toss in a few tops, shorts, and dresses instead of heavy sweaters. She’s also had to pack all her stuff up to put it into storage for the time she’s away, because she’s moving to a different room when she comes back. It’s a suite, where there’re three single bedrooms, a common area, a little kitchenette, and a big bathroom for them to share. She kind of can’t wait. She’s with Maya and Ashley and she seriously thinks it’s going to be an amazing living situation. 

Her grandma and grandpa are waiting in the arrivals area when Allie walks out, and she pushes her duffel out of the way so she can be wrapped up in a hug. Her eyes slip closed at how comforting it is. Her grandpa’s hand is on her shoulder, and she realizes too late that he’s just offering to take her bag. She hates - seriously - that there are tears in her eyes. Her grandparents somehow look older, and she thinks aging is bullshit.

Her mom throws the door open when the car pulls into the driveway, and Allie hops out of the car and collects her hug. Her dad comes out and has a bandaid over his left eyebrow, tells her not to ask questions as he pulls her into his arms. Cassie has her last final tomorrow, but then she’ll be back for a visit, too. 

Allie sits at the kitchen counter while her mom makes salad to go with dinner. She presses Allie about her grades and Simon and her flight. She asks about soccer, too, wondering if Allie knows anything about any of the freshmen coming in, and if she’ll get more playing time because they had a pretty large cohort of seniors leave. Allie knows it’s highly likely, but doesn’t want to count her chickens, or whatever. 

They eat dinner all around the table, and Allie learns that her dad ended up with a cut on his face from washing the car, which is almost the funniest thing she’s ever heard. 

She falls asleep in her childhood bedroom and wakes in the morning when Cassandra jumps on her bed shouting her name. 

… … …

Allie and Cassandra are helping their grandma with the flowers. Things are a little more grown over than Allie’s used to seeing, but her grandma just winks and says she was waiting for helpers. She wears her white crop top and a pair of workout shorts, gets onto her knees and gets to weeding. Cassandra’s always been less interested in this, so she mainly fusses with fertilizer and does as their grandma directs her to do. At some point, grandma says something about at least Allie inheriting her greenthumb, and Allie smiles to herself even as she scratches the edge of her knuckle on a rose thorn. 

Harry Bingham’s obnoxious Maserati cruises down the street towards their house, and he stops dead in the middle of the road, smiling as he gets out. 

Allie kind of launches herself at him, and he catches her, hand slipping into her hair as he holds her. 

“Sight for sore eyes,” he says, and she laughs a little at how silly she’s being. “Nest of hair and all.” 

He holds one hand as she pulls away. She thinks he’s looking at the dirt under her nails. 

“I didn’t know you were back already,” she says, and then feels...It’s messed up that it’s true. They’d spoken a couple weeks back, and she remembers telling him about moving, but they didn’t talk about break.

“Surprise,” he says lowly, still holding her hand. 

She pulls it away gently, bites her lip and turns towards the house. “Come in for iced tea.”

Grinning a little, he says, “I gotta watch Poppy. Mom’s got a thing. I’ll come back?”

Allie nods, wishing he didn’t look so good. 

… … …

It takes a day for everything to go to shit. And she’s still not sure it’s really her fault. 

(She’s sort of sure. Pretty sure. Okay, she fucked up.)

They’re taking advantage of his yard, because it’s warm enough for them to sit with their feet in the pool. She didn’t think to bring a bathing suit, which seems sort of silly of her, in hindsight. Cassandra’s here, too, because she’s heading to hang out with Gordie and Bean. She offered to drop Allie at Harry’s on the way, and the timing didn’t quite work out, and so she decided to hang out for a half hour and Harry didn’t object. These two get along _just_ well enough that they can spend time with each other without Allie feeling like she needs to play referee. Everything’s still laced with competition and one-upping, but she figures that’s just always going to be the case, and it’s not a fight she wants to have with either of them. Not right now, when the sun’s warming her skin and they’re sitting on either side of her.

Allie’s talking about how gruelling camp was last year, how she slept like 10 hours a night and needed massages almost daily for her tired muscles, and she wasn’t even in bad shape. 

Cassandra says, “Does Simon know enough about muscles yet to help?” Allie freezes, _feels_ Harry’s eyes on her, then. “Pretty convenient your boyfriend’s a kin major.” 

Allie’s looking at Cassandra, but her eyes slide closed and she thinks her heart is in her fucking throat. Cassandra seems to realize she’s really stuffed this up, but even Allie knows it’s not Cassandra’s fault. No, as much as she’d like to shift blame, this is entirely on her. 

Harry’s not saying anything. When she turns to look at him, he just says her name, and she knows she looks guilty. 

Cassandra says she’s going to go, and Allie doesn’t acknowledge that her sister leaves. 

Harry’s breathing is a little ragged. He’s looking straight ahead now. 

“Boyfriend,” is all he says, and Allie opens her mouth, but doesn’t know what words she could pick to make this better. 

After a few moments, she realizes there’s nothing she _can_ say. She should’ve told him. He’s been blindsided. She _knows_ this feeling, because he did it to her, too. The only difference is he wasn’t _currently_ dating anyone when he dropped the news. And she truly feels like an asshole, because she remembers being so offended that he hadn’t said anything. So why would it be different for her? When did she become such a hypocrite?

Now isn’t the time to really dig into _why_ she didn’t say anything. But like...there’s gotta be something to that, too.

(She _knows_. She just doesn’t want to name it.)

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she says, and her voice is quiet, and god, it’s so stupid that they’re sitting here like this. Her polished nails distorted beneath the water. “He’s really…”

“I don’t want to hear what he’s like, Allie,” Harry says, laughing humourlessly. He stands, so she does, too. The patio stones are hot under her feet. “Why am I learning about this from your fucking sister?” 

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

Harry cuts her a look. “Really?” he asks, deadpan, fury in his eyes. “Because it seems like you had a lot of opportunities to tell me yourself, and you didn’t.” 

She has no defense for that. Except part of the reason, at least, that she didn’t tell him is she didn’t want to hurt him. She wasn’t sure how he’d react and telling him over the phone felt shitty. She didn’t know how to segue from joking and talking about school to telling him she was seeing someone. 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

He stares. “Didn’t work.” Allie steps closer, but he holds a hand out, low, just by his hip. Like a warning. She stops. She thinks the only time she’s seen him this unraveled was after his dad. She doesn’t want to think about what that means. “Like, am I an idiot?” She deflates a little. “I seriously thought you’d come home and we’d be…we could…”

Allie clenches her jaw, pulls her shoulders back. “Was I supposed to know that?” He doesn’t say anything. That’s not good enough. “Is it too much to ask that you _ever_ tell me how you’re feeling?” Before he can say anything about that, she throws in, “And don’t pretend you were celibate this semester,” for good measure, or maybe just to make her actions feel more defensible. 

That doesn’t work, either.

She’s never seen him look at her this way.

“I didn’t think I had to spell it out,” he says, and Allie shakes her head, laughing. “What?” 

“I’m not asking you to spell it out, Harry.” She feels like she’s going to cry, but wants to hold it back as much as possible. “ _Any_ indication would’ve been fucking swell. I’m so sick of guessing, and always being the one to…” She remembers Christmas. Remembers getting into his bed, kissing him, making that break into what it ended up being. “You can’t just not tell me what you want, and then expect to get your way.”

Narrowing his eyes, he says, lowly, “Don’t make this about me being some spoiled asshole.” Not what she was saying. If that’s how he’s taking it, that’s on him. “And you can’t just keep secrets and then act like it’s my fault.”

Honestly, fair. 

But she’s still pissed. Because he’s trying to make it sound like she’s in the wrong for not waiting around for him when he never actually asked her to or told her _what for_.

“I can’t believe you just assumed…” Her voice is soft, and trails off. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He’s being cold. When she looks up at him, his stare is blank. Practically unkind. “You were pretty direct about what you wanted over Christmas.”

Okay, if he’s implying that she’s… “Don’t ruin it,” she pleads, because fuck. Yes, she’s with someone else, and she wants to be, but she still cares about Harry so much, and the time they had over the holidays is something she _still_ feels so good about. “Don’t make it sound cheap.”

He scoffs like that’s a ridiculous request at this point. She can feel tears welling in her eyes, and really doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. There’s part of her, too, that thinks it’s selfish to shed tears in front of him. He’s got a right to be this upset. Probably. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t, though, right?

“Feels kind of meaningless now,” he says, looking at his feet. It sounds mean, and rude, and she thinks - seriously - that the reason he’s not looking at her is that he knows it, and he’s not got the courage to make it hit as hard as he could. 

Wanting to meet him at this level, she says, “Then I guess I was wrong about it. It’s a good thing I’m with someone now who never makes me doubt that he wants me.”

Harry shakes his head again, a mean grin stretching on his lips. “It’s like you think…”

“What?” she asks when he doesn’t finish his thought. Honestly, they might as well just put it all on the table at this point.

“It’s not my fault we’re not together.”

She wants to scream. What the _fuck_?

“That’s such bullshit.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. Like, all senior year, I was…Every time I tried to make something happen, you told me not to.”

“Your senior year was like an extended cry for help,” she bites back. 

“And who helped?” he shouts. She wonders if the tension would dissipate if she pushed him into the pool. She _hates_ this. He gets quiet, shuffles his feet towards her. ”You told me you loved me, Allie.” 

Her breath catches. “I…”

“And then didn’t let me say anything. Any time I tried, you shut me down.”

He’s repeating himself. He must think this is true. She’s racking her brain, trying to figure out if it is. 

(And is he saying he was going to tell her he loved her back?)

“You can’t just try to kiss me when you’re drunk, and think that’s the same as saying you want to be in a relationship with me.” She thinks she’s right. This is how she feels, anyway. She doesn’t want them to keep making sweeping statements and throwing things back and forth to hurt each other. 

“But you can climb into my bed, then go off and date someone else like nothing ever happened?” 

“Harry,” she groans, eyes falling closed. She pushes her hands into her hair, frustrated. “You didn’t give me any reason to think I shouldn’t.”

He sighs, defeated. But she doesn’t feel like she’s won anything. 

After a couple moments, he says, devoid of any distinguishable emotion, “I’m sorry you feel that way,” and Allie’s chest heaves with her breaths. 

He seems to be signalling that he’s done with this conversation, and Allie wants to scream because nothing feels resolved. Maybe she’s crazy to think it would be. 

Their eyes lock and she refuses to look away first. So does he, apparently. They’re both too stubborn for their own good. Probably how they ended up here, actually. 

She still feels like she’s going to cry. Knows she’s going to the second she’s out of his sight. This feels like a 10 year friendship is dust in the wind, and she’s almost panicking, trying to imagine her life without him in it. 

“I don’t want to leave,” she says, and leaves out _like this_ , because she feels like it’s a complete sentence anyway. 

Harry says, “I think you should,” and sounds more sad than angry. 

Allie knows he sees her swipe at the tear that falls as she’s slipping her sandals back on.

She’s a little overwhelmed with how much she wants to kiss him. 

She doesn’t. She leaves without another word. 

They don’t speak again. 

… … ...

Cassandra is all apologies even at the end of Allie’s trip home. Everyone’s noticed the distinct lack of Harry in her days, and they’re all sort of politely not saying anything about it. Not until the last day, when her grandma asks if they’ve had a fight and Allie can only nod. She’s in their living room and her grandma’s fussing over her, because the woman’s always been the person, without fail, who could tell when Allie was really, truly sad and doing her best to hide it. She doesn’t say what they fought about, but her grandma says, “He’s a good boy,” and Allie smiles, even as she tries not to cry, at her grandma calling him that. He’d pretend to hate it but secretly love it. 

Her grandma says he came by yesterday when she was out tending to the flowers, offered to help her with the hanging baskets. Allie’s struck with such a pang of guilt and _affection_ for him that she nearly marches over to his house and tells him they are absolutely not going to leave things like this. 

But then he’s driving by and doesn’t stop even though she’s in the yard, and, from what she can tell, doesn’t even actually look in her direction. 

Allie gets on the plane home and tries not to consider the way Cassandra had said, “Allie, maybe there’s a deeper reason you didn’t say anything about Simon.”

This isn’t the time for Cassie to be in Harry’s fucking fan club, okay? 

Allie thinks she’s heartbroken, and she’s angry that no one’s really paying attention to it. She’s also angry that this isn’t the first time she’s felt this way over the same guy. She thinks that says something about her that she really doesn’t like. 

… … …

Their first night as roommates, she, Maya and Ashley get a bottle of gin, some tonic, and way too many snacks. Camp starts in four days, and their diet and every move will be restricted and counted for, and Ashley jokes about them going on a bender and getting it out of their systems. Honestly, it’s kind of a great idea.

(It’s truly an awful idea. But Allie wants to do it. So whatever.)

Allie’s got an extra $500 in her bank account that her grandpa told her about the day before she left, told her to keep it ‘their little secret’. So she splurges on burgers and fries when they’re too drunk to make their own food. 

Simon’s working, and she feels flirtatious and silly and wishes he was around. She hasn’t seen him since she got back. 

She accidentally starts typing out a text to Harry that she’s _very_ glad she doesn’t send after noticing it’s to the wrong guy. It says something about wanting him in her bed tonight. 

“Freudian text!” Ashley proclaims after asking Allie what’s so funny and hearing the story. 

“That’s not got anything to do with anything Freud said.” Allie’s probably wrong about that, but she doesn’t care, and licks salt from her fries off her thumb, then tucks her phone away without sending Simon anything. “And Harry hates me, so.”

Maya looks at her like this is the craziest shit she’s ever said. “What?” 

Yeah, okay, if anyone knows anything about Allie and Harry’s relationship, it’s Maya, who’s so far spent an entire year listening to one side of their conversations, or walking into the room when the two of them were watching movies together, or whatever. And then also Maya’s the only person in the world other than Harry and Allie who knows they slept together, unless _he_ told someone. When Allie started dating Simon, Maya had looked slightly confused and said she thought Allie was dating Harry. Like she’d just have hidden her relationship like that.

...Fuck.

“Hate. Capital H hate.” Allie steals some of Ashley’s aioli and busies herself with chewing so she doesn’t have to continue talking. 

They let her get away with it, and she loves them a little for it. 

… … …

Her birthday gifts come in the mail and email and on the phone. Her grandparents drop a large sum of money into her account, which she promises they don’t have to do. Cassandra sends her an Ulta gift card and says there’s a book on its way. Her parents have sent her new bedding, which arrives in a massive box she retrieves from the security desk downstairs. Grizz sends her flowers, and Helena sends her money to get a mani-pedi, because she wasn’t sure which salons near campus were good. 

Simon wakes her up with a fancy cupcake with a birthday candle in it, and gifts her a pretty pair of pearl stud earrings that look like too much but he insists aren’t. Maya and Ashley treat her to lunch and get everyone on the team to sing her happy birthday, which is appropriately silly and embarrassing. 

At the end of the day, when she’s sitting in the common area of their suite, Maya and Ashley walk in with champagne and three slices of cheesecake. Maya snaps a photo of Allie before she blows out the candle. Allie posts it on Instagram with the sunflower emoji and _’spoiled’_. 

She doesn’t exactly wait all day to see if Harry’s done something or if he’ll reach out. She knows him well enough to know he won’t. He’s too prideful. Too hurt. She feels a little like this period of silence is a punishment, but then knows, too, that it probably isn’t. Everything’s just different and maybe he doesn’t know what to say to her any more than she knows what to say to him. So there’s nothing. And she hates it. And as showered in care and gifts and gestures as she’s been all day, she thinks she’ll probably remember this birthday for a while as the first one in years that he didn’t have a part in.

… … …

Coach tells her she’s going to be a starter this season, and Allie works her ass off in practice to prove she deserves her spot. She drinks her weight in Gatorade and tries to eat enough to fuel her workouts. It’s also hot as hell and she’s too stubborn to stop, sometimes. She nearly passes out one day during practice, dumps a small cooler full of ice water over her head to lower her temperature. Their trainer gives her a dressing down and Simon seems terrified when she’s still weak and red in the face when she shows up to his place two hours later. She takes it easy the next day, and she thinks Simon’s stopped worrying so much when he starts, instead, making fun of her tan lines. 

He tells her he loves her at the end of July, when they’ve taken a Saturday to go to a pretty garden and Allie’s wearing a cheap black cotton dress and tucks a flower behind her ear. It pins her hair there, and reminds her of her grandma. She posts a bunch of photos to her stories and likes the way the sun reflects off her dewey skin in the last one. 

Simon kisses her by a bush of pale orange roses, his nose brushing hers when he says the words. Allie says them back easily, and doesn’t worry whether or not she means them. She likes that it’s not scary. She likes the little whoosh of a breath he lets out like he’s relieved. 

… … …

She’s studying late on Saturday afternoon when Cassandra calls her. Saturdays have sort of been Allie’s day off. And by day off, she means day to focus hard on school work if she needs to. It’s the only day she doesn’t have practice right now, and usually games don’t fall on Saturdays. Simon works, and her roommates are quiet, too. Allie usually treats herself to a coffee after her shower, then comes back and studies in her room with the door closed. 

“I saw Harry today,” Cassandra tells her after they’ve said their hellos. 

Allie thinks this is the only reason her sister has called, and it irks her. 

“Okay.”

“At a party at his place. He was super drunk.”

Allie’s stomach lurches. She’s tired and would appreciate it if Cassie would get to the point. “Cass, what…”

“I asked him how he’s doing, and he said, ‘ask your sister’. Since I know you two haven’t spoken, I’m assuming what he really wanted to say was that he’s awful and it’s because of your fight.”

Allie’s pissed now. He doesn’t have any right to do this. It’s totally fucked up that he’d blame the entire thing on _her_. She knows that seeing Cassandra would’ve pissed him off and made him think of Allie and _them_ , but she absolutely refuses to be on the hook for the choices he makes at this point, even if they are in response to an argument she was part of.

He can’t keep blaming her for everything he doesn’t like. That’s not fair.

“It’s not my fault he got drunk and doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions,” she says, sounding entirely too defensive. Or maybe just defensive enough. Whatever. “And it’d be great if you two wouldn’t like, set aside your sworn feud just so you can gang up on me.”

“Allie, that’s not what’s happening and you know it,” Cassandra says seriously. She sounds a little tired. “You should talk to him.”

“No.” It’s fast and easy. 

“So you’re just going to throw away a 10 year friendship?”

“Guess so,” she says, sounding nonchalant, but feeling like she might jump out of her skin. “This isn’t all my fault, you know.”

“Of course it’s not. And I’m not picking sides,” Cassandra says, and then, “And if I was, there’s no contest.” Allie sighs, knowing that it’s true. But also kind of pissed that Cassandra _isn’t_ taking sides. Like, why not? “You can’t be happy with the way things are, either.”

Allie stays quiet, and knows that gives her away. Not that it’s really a secret. Of course she’s not happy with it. 

“Next time you see him, tell him if he wants to talk about me, he can do it with me and leave you out of it.”

Cassandra laughs gently, just this side of patronizing. “I absolutely won’t do that, but I hear you.”

Allie asks why Cassandra was at a party at Harry’s house anyway, and she says something noncommittal about being invited by someone who was going. Allie doesn’t press it because she’s still mad and distracted. 

… … …

They win their first five games of the season, and Allie’s leading the team in scoring. She’s on a hot streak and everyone knows it and leaves her be. She doesn’t really have any superstitions like some of the girls do. The only thing she really ever pays attention to is that she always puts her right cleat on first. But that’s not because she’s superstitious, it’s just the way she does it. 

There’s an article about her on ESPN’s website with a few photos of her, which makes her feel a little weird. Her Instagram follower count skyrockets overnight. She doesn’t like it. 

In the main photo on the article, her star necklace is catching the sunlight, half tucked into her jersey and half out. It’s the photo she posts to her Insta, but she doesn’t really notice the necklace, she’ll be honest, until Harry DMs her _’Nice necklace, super star’_.

She cries, and puts her phone down as Simon fusses over her, asking what’s wrong and what happened.

She just wants to know how to not miss him. Harry. She wants to know how to talk to him without feeling so angry about the things he said and how they left things. She doesn’t think she should have to be the one to reach out and start that conversation. If he wants to DM her stupid things (it was not at all stupid) instead of talking to her, that’s his choice. Her choice is to still be hurt that he’s blaming her for their entire relationship, or lack of. She’ll take responsibility for hurting him by not telling him about Simon. That was really awful of her. She doesn’t think she did anything else wrong.

She tells Simon trolls are being shitty and he suggests maybe she stop using social until some of the press dies down. She smiles gently and nods, and feels absolutely awful for lying. 

… … …

Cassandra’s doing a semester abroad in London and Allie, half serious, asks her if she’s ever coming back. The photos are gorgeous and she does all these little trips around the country and in Europe and Allie is jealous. She’s traveled across the US at this point for soccer, but it pales in comparison to these ruins in England that Cassandra posts photos of. 

She notices that Harry’s liked one of them, and her jealousy spikes to an unattractive level.

… … ...

Simon, gently, asks her if she’s okay, overall, because he’s noticed her getting frustrated more quickly, and crying more than he’s used to, and she’s cancelled plans on him twice in favour of staying in because she just doesn’t have it in her to get ready and go out anywhere.

She tells him she’s fine, really, just stressed with school and games, but then she has a panic attack before their first playoff appearance. Maya’s the one who sees it happen. Allie’s in the locker room, and heads into the shower area because she thinks she’ll be alone to collect her thoughts. She’s gasping for air and leaning forward, trying to breathe, when she feels hands on her shins. No one here’s seen this side of her before. She counts her breaths, and thinks of James, and then after they win the game, she can’t get out of there fast enough. 

She texts Karen, because they keep in touch sporadically. She says she was thinking about James earlier and it made her smile. It’s not a whole truth. It made her calmer. And she knows James is a stand-in for Harry. Or that at least she was thinking of them both. God, she’s such a mess.

She talks to her coach about taking a day off from practice. She knows it’s fucked up, because they’re in the playoffs for the first time in years. But Allie can feel herself getting overwhelmed even just sitting there talking to the woman, and it must be noticeable. 

She sleeps for 14 hours straight and then scores two goals in their next game. 

Karen sends her a picture of Poppy in a Florida Gators shirt watching the game on a laptop, and Allie is so floored that she presses her hand against her heart, starts to cry, and feels very intensely that she’s missing this entire family. 

… … …

They lose the game that would’ve sent them to the finals. Allie hates that she’s crying, with her arms around her teammates, as the other team celebrates their win. She’s not surprised by her reaction, but she also feels foolish. It’s just a game. She can’t force a win when they’re being outplayed. She tried her best. 

She throws herself so deep into school that Ashley asks her if she’s okay. She’s the only person who hasn’t yet declared a major, and Allie’s feeling massive pressure to do so. Simon tries to sell her on kinesiology, and she thinks it’s kind of cool, but can't imagine making a career of it. That’s sort of her problem - she can’t imagine a career of _any_ of this. The only thing she had half an inkling for was to be a GP or something, but there’s no way she can go into medicine now. She’s lacking credits, and she couldn’t imagine juggling pre-med with soccer. Since soccer is paying for almost all of her schooling, she can’t just give that up. The only other thing she thinks about is English, and how much she ended up loving that subject in school, and having sort of fond memories of talking about books and plays with her dad while they were on their way to practice. So there’s English, and there’s like, coaching. She thinks this all sort of goes back to the fact that soccer and school were two constants in her life when she was younger.

Look, it’s not that her childhood was awful. She just knows what it was made a lot better by having the structure soccer provided. And school, despite having teachers who thought Cassandra was the best student they’d ever had - and making that very clear to Allie - was something she’d always… There were just teachers who made learning fun, and Allie thinks she could _be_ one of those. She kind of really loves the idea of being a person who helps kids the way some of her teachers helped her. And maybe she could coach, or something, too. Best of both. Plus, her grandma was a teacher, and Allie thinks that she must’ve been a good one. 

Simon smiles when she tells him. He’s been patient with her and hasn’t pushed her, or anything. Not past her comfort zone or...Her parents are the ones who have made her uncomfortable about her future, made it sound like this is life or death and her dragging her heels was a huge problem. Simon seems to understand. She knows he picked his major pretty quickly, knew what he wanted to do. But she appreciates his patience. He asks if she’s any good with kids. She doesn’t know many kids other than Poppy, who she loves and who loves her, so she says yes. 

“Really?” Cassandra says, after Allie’s feeling better about it, after she’s talked to her advisors on campus. 

Allie freezes. Cassandra sounds skeptical. No, she sounds disappointed. Allie just hates the thought.

(And Allie thinks, too, about a conversation she had with James a million years ago about something completely different. About not letting people make you feel ashamed for wanting the things you want.)

“Yeah. Why?”

“You could do anything,” Cassandra says, maybe meaning to sound inspirational or encouraging. Really, it lands like an insult. 

She thinks about it a while. Too long, probably. She talks to Grizz, who thinks it sounds awesome. But she knew he would; he’s also majoring in English with a minor in medieval history. He says something about post grad, maybe, and Allie smiles. He asks her not to tell anyone, and this isn’t the first time he’s said those words. She’s also the only one he’s come out to, and she’s kept that secret because he’d asked her to. She loves him dearly and it’s not hard to honour that.

“Cassandra made it sound like it was stupid,” she finally confesses, and Grizz sighs. 

“I mean, no offense to Cassandra, but what the hell does she know?” They both laugh. Cassandra knows everything. “You shouldn’t let her opinion talk you out of doing something you want to do.”

“Maybe I’ll minor in business,” she says after a few moments, thinking of a conversation she had with her dad last week. He’d said there’s nothing wrong with being a generalist - he’s made his career off it. “Seems stable.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, then,” Grizz says. She can hear him smiling. She tilts her head back so the sun is on her face. “What’d you call me for?”

She misses him. He tells her he’ll see her in like, a month, at Christmas. 

Allie’s sort of been dreading going home. She doesn’t want Harry to ruin it for her. There are other people who’ll make it great. Right?

… … …

Simon invites her to his parents’ place in Savannah for Thanksgiving. Her first instinct, truly, is to say no. She’s scared. She’s never been in a serious relationship like this. He tells her his parents will love her. He’s an only child and the rest of his family is spread around the country. He tells her Savannah is gorgeous and he wants to see her there. It’s sweet. 

She packs a bag and controls the music as they drive. Simon sings along - he’s actually got kind of a good voice - and she takes a bunch of pictures on the way. 

The house they pull up to is really nice. This brick two story place that’s not too big or too small. She can imagine him growing up here. 

His mom helps with that, shows Allie pictures of him as a kid, playing with his cousins when they  
used to live in the same city. They sort of seem to love Allie. They’re the kind of people who say a prayer before they eat, and have a formal dining room. Allie’s palm is pressed against his mother’s as his dad speaks. He says thank you to God for sending Allie Simon’s way. Simon squeezes her hand and Allie keeps her eyes closed tightly. 

She stays alone in a spare bedroom that is furnished with antiques. In the morning, she wakes up to the sound of someone singing in the kitchen. 

On the drive home, she posts a screenshot of her phone, the Spotify screen showing the stupid country song she loves that she’s been making Simon listen to on repeat for probably too long. 

This feels serious and stable and good, and she feels too young for it.

… … … 

She spends the first two days of holiday break with her parents and Cassie in the house, eating food that’s bad for them and having movie marathons. Her dad takes a day off work so they can watch a bunch of holiday movies. Cassandra says she’s perfected her Irish coffee recipe. Allie’s mom randomly gives them both new sets of pajamas. 

Allie doesn’t take hers off for two days, and when Becca walks into her bedroom and makes a face, Allie realizes maybe she should like, move, or get out of bed. 

She showers, and Becca insists on picking her outfit, and they go to the mall even though it’s obnoxiously busy and Allie sort of hates everything about it. She’s got all her Christmas gifts purchased, but she buys herself a really soft grey sweater she finds while Becca’s looking for a purse for her mom. 

Becca asks what went down between Allie and Harry, and Allie says they’ve just grown apart. Becca doesn’t press the issue further. Allie sort of wants to scream and tell everyone who knows them what happened, but she won’t. 

There’s a party at his house that she finds out about through her sister. 

She absolutely knows, without a single fucking doubt, that he did that on purpose. Payback for how he found out about Simon. She’s sort of pissed that Cassandra let him get away with it. 

“Just come,” Cassandra says. Helena’s there, too, looking pretty and grown up, as usual. Allie shakes her head. “Why not?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

Helena’s brow furrows. “Since when do you need an invite to Harry’s, and since when does Harry care who shows up at his parties?”

Allie’s biting back tears and presses her fingernails into her palm. “I’m not going.”

Cassandra’s eyes slide towards Helena’s, and they seem to make some sort of weird decision without talking. 

“We’re not going without you.”

Allie laughs incredulously. “Then I guess you’re not going, either.” She ticks her brow up like a challenge, crosses her arms. They’re both staring at her like they actually thought that would work. Allie picks her phone up off her lap and resumes texting her boyfriend. 

Luke shows up 15 minutes later, and then it’s Kelly and Will, and then Grizz. Her bedroom is too small for this amount of people. They’re all pestering her, trying to force her to get up. She won’t. They eventually move downstairs and her mom says something funny about not knowing _they_ were hosting a party, and it’s a good thing she went to Costco yesterday. 

Luke shows her a text from Harry asking where the fuck he is. 

Then he gets her mom to take a photo of everyone in the living room of the Pressman house, bowls of chips and cups of soda sitting on all the surfaces. 

Harry doesn’t respond to Luke’s message. Allie can’t decide if it feels good, or fucking awful. 

… … …

“Stop being so goddamn stubborn,” Grizz says, when he tells her he’s organizing a sledding trip and she asks if she should really go. Which is code, obviously. “I’m not doing my whole break like this. You two can get over yourselves.” Allie’s silent on the phone. “Maybe if either of you’d tell us what happened…”

She thinks it’s an ultimatum, and she isn’t giving into it. She doesn’t want to _talk_ about it. She pulls on her jacket and her warmest pants, stuffs her feet into her boots, and waits in the foyer until Grizz shows up to get her. 

Harry’s sitting in the front seat. Their eyes catch just for a moment before she gets in behind him. It’s just the three of them, and Grizz looks at her in the rear view. He planned this, and she’s irritated about it. They’re picking up two more people. It didn’t have to be this way. 

“Allie, why don’t you tell us how you’re doing?” Grizz says, sounding animated and fake and absolutely pointing at the fact that she and Harry are being awkward and stupid. 

“Fine,” she says, but her voice is too quiet. She can see Harry’s face in the side mirror. He’s just looking out the window. “Cold.”

Grizz stops pushing them, and then Luke and Helena get in. The chatter easily fills the car and Allie thinks her shoulders are tense. Harry talks to everyone but her. But she’s not doing much better.

She watches Grizz go down the hill first, and when he falls, he rolls three times and Allie holds her breath until he gets up. It’s way too icy - the snow too hard and packed down from other people sledding here. 

“Yeah, fuck this,” she says, laughing, and Luke grins at her. “I can’t risk an injury. Have fun, though.” 

She doesn’t want to sit on the snow, so she heads down the side of the hill where people walk instead of sledding, and gets Grizz to give her his car keys as he passes her. 

Harry’d already claimed he wasn’t doing this, that he didn’t think Grizz actually meant tobogganing for real. He’s currently sitting on a bench - on the top because the actual seat is covered in snow - with his chin tucked into his parka. 

Allie doesn’t look at him as she passes, unlocks the hatch of Grizz’s SUV, and sits on the back. There’s a thermos of hot chocolate, because Helena came prepared, and Allie pours herself some. The hockey arena is behind them and open, and there’s a little canteen. Allie can almost taste the soft pretzels they serve in there, and she’s seriously considering going for one when Harry walks over, sort of leans against the car. He’s leaving a couple feet between them. Allie doesn’t want to be irritated. 

She _hates_ that they can’t even seem to be in the same place anymore.

“You’re really not talking to me?” he asks, and Allie scoffs before she can stop herself. 

“Why would I?”

The last time she saw him, he told her to leave his house. She’s under no misconceptions about his attitude towards her. 

“We could at least make this less awkward.”

She stares straight ahead, watches Helena and Luke go down the hill together on a single flying saucer, which is sort of hilarious and she wishes she could appreciate more. 

“You came over. I was fine in the silence.” She watches the twitch of his jaw from the corner of her eye. He doesn’t say anything for at least a minute. Allie can’t stand it. “How are you?” she asks quietly, tucks her hands under her thighs, careful of her hot chocolate cup between her legs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles. “I hate this. Grizz sucks.” Allie laughs a little. Harry smiles, but there’s something empty behind it. 

“It’s not Grizz’s fault,” she admits quietly. Harry hums. 

She thinks she might cry. This is so stupid. Harry doesn’t say anything, and Allie misses him more right now than she has since their fight in June. It’s been way too long that they haven’t spoken, and now they can’t even manage to say anything nice to one another. She’s so overwhelmed with it that she can’t stay here. She knows she’s going to cry, and they’re going to say more shitty things to one another, and she thinks if she stays for that, the rest of her break will be really, really miserable. It’s better to just avoid him. 

He’s too close, even where he is. She can smell his aftershave, or whatever that is, and she wants to reach for him, and she wishes she could apologize and make this all go away. But even that won’t work. She screwed up, and she thinks he did, too, and she’s still mad at him for thinking it’s just her. They’re not going to resolve that now, She doesn’t want to pretend they can be cordial. 

Allie tosses the hot chocolate out onto the snow, and Harry looks at her, then, for the first time. His brow is pinched together like she’s confusing him. She just gets up, pulls Grizz’s keys from her pocket and holds them out to Harry. 

“I can’t do this,” she says, blinking tears away. Harry’s just staring. She shoves the keys towards him but he doesn’t move. “I have to go.”

“Allie.”

“Please,” she says, but he seems to be refusing to take the keys from her. She sets them inside the vehicle and shakes her head. He reaches for _her_ , then, but she moves away. “Don’t.”

She could call Cassandra to come get her, but she thinks she deserves the misery of walking in the cold. At least a little. 

It’s stupid to go to her grandparents’ place instead of home. It’s closer to his house and therefore ultimately way more likely that she’ll have to see him again. But she really wants to see her grandma, and wants the comfort. She’s pulled inside, told she’s crazy for being out in the cold like this. Her grandma makes a pot of tea and they sit in front of the fireplace and her grandma’s saying something about a gift she got for Cassandra and Allie just...bursts into tears. 

She ends up telling her grandma everything. Even about the sleeping together. She keeps it PG, but she says it. Then she talks about Simon and the fight she and Harry had and how he seems to want her now when she’s with someone else, but didn’t want her enough before to actually say anything about it. 

Her grandma rubs her back and says calming words, but doesn’t actually tell Allie it’ll be okay, or say they’ll get past it, or anything like that. She says that Harry’s a good person who cares about her, regardless of how he’s showing it right now. Allie nods, hoping that the fact that he’s still upset means he at least feels _something_ about her, still. And then she feels guilty for wanting that when she’s still with Simon, still wants to be with Simon. 

She just wants Harry, too. And that’s what got her into this mess in the first place. 

… … …

He texts her _’Come to New Years’_ , and Allie’s breath catches in her throat. It’s literally the day of, but she’s got no other plans other than to sit in the living room with her mom and dad, eating Chex mix and drinking red wine. 

She has nothing to wear. 

She sits on her parents’ bed with a wine glass in her hand after dinner. Her mom’s a little tipsy and insisting that black pants and Allie’s new sweater aren’t fancy enough for this party. She’s in the closet looking through her dresses. They’ve got music playing and Allie’s laughing as her mom runs commentary on her selections, and she honestly thinks she could just do _this_ all night and be totally happy. 

Her mom’s got this black silk top with tiny straps and a touch of detail on the chest, and Allie runs her fingers over it and thinks she could make it work with her pants and a pair of heels. Her mom says, “No, Allie!” as if it’s too revealing. 

She pulls it on anyway. She won’t be able to wear her bra, but she doesn’t care about that. The straps are too long, but her mom is inventive and uses a fake gold bracelet to tug them together more at Allie’s back. Allie downs the rest of her wine and takes her bra off. Her mom’s cheeks are pink from wine and she laughs, presses her hands against them as Allie stands there, checking herself out in the full length mirror. 

“Well, if you’re going full hussy, you might as well wear my black ankle boots.”

Allie laughs so hard she can barely breathe, and slips her feet into them to finish the look. 

She does her makeup right there, sipping from another glass of wine as her mom keeps her company. Allie’s honestly not sure she’s ever felt like this with her mom. They’re having so much fun and she thinks it’s because she’s grown up a little and more confident in herself and trusts that her parents actually, you know, care about her. 

She puts on some highlighter as her mom fusses with her hair, and then asks if she can borrow some red lipstick, too. 

She looks _hot_.

She takes a mirror selfie and sends it to her roommate group chat. Maya sends back a video reaction where she’s just screaming. Ashley sends back _’OkAYyYYY Pressman!!!’_ with a lipstick emoji. 

Allie walks into Harry’s house and hands her coat to the person who’s been hired for the evening to do this thing. 

Harry catches her eye as soon as she steps into the living area. He’s by the doors leading to the back yard, and Allie pushes her hair off her shoulder and watches him take a drink before she looks away. He’s still looking at her. 

Helena’s just blinking at her, champagne glass in hand, as Allie approaches. Then Helena sort of pulls her head back like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. 

“Eat your heart out,” Allie says, putting her hand on her hip. 

Helena sips from her glass, reaches for one for Allie, and mutters something that sounds a lot like, “That’ll get his attention.” 

Karen finds her a half hour later, looking sleek and beautiful in her dark red dress, hair pinned back in a chignon. She seems so happy to see Allie, hugs her tight and tells her she looks fantastic. She makes a comment about how she’s surprised she hasn’t seen more of Allie this break. Allie smiles politely, but her heart is beating fast. 

Harry hasn’t told his mother _anything_?

As if on cue, he comes over, smug smile plastered on his face. He drapes an arm around Allie and makes a comment about her hair, asking who helped her pull this off. She’s going to kill him. How easily he slips into this fake shit, acting like nothing’s wrong…

Allie catches the look on Luke’s face as he watches this happen. He seems just as confused. Allie’s glad to know she’s not fucking insane to think this is stupid. Like, this is crazy, right? 

She finishes her champagne, and it’s too early to be as buzzed as she is. Harry presses another glass against her palm as his mom carries on about their holiday and how nice it’s been to have him home. When she finally looks into his eyes, she can tell he’s pleading with her to just go along with it. 

She loves, way too much, the way his hand is behind her, thumb brushing her back through the thin fabric of her shirt. 

Once his mom’s done talking and turned to say something to Mrs. Visser, Allie moves just slightly, hip bumping Harry’s, and says, “Can we talk?”

He nods, glances at her lips once, and she walks away first. 

Going to his bedroom is stupid, but here she is. He pushes the door closed behind him. She would’ve gone to the study, but it’s quieter up here. 

Immediately, she’s thinking about the last time she was here. She’d taken her time undressing him, despite his voice almost breaking when he said her name and her fingers worked his belt buckle slowly. 

This was a bad idea. 

“Your mom doesn't know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” he asks, sets his glass down next to the bed. Allie does the same. But she’s giving him a look as if to ask if he’s really going to play dumb. “What was I supposed to say? You know she loves you.”

Allie tilts her head. “If you think for a second your mom would like you less because of...this.” 

Harry swallows, looks downward. He’s got one hand in his pocket, and she noticed as soon as she saw him that they match. Both in all black. She wonders what they looked like downstairs, too, when they were next to one another, standing close, his arm behind her. She’s wrong to be so curious of what people thought. If they thought she and him looked _good_ together. She’s being so stupid. 

“You look really hot,” he says, then glances up at her. 

She sighs. “Be serious.”

Grinning, he says, “I am,” like he thinks, genuinely, he can charm his way out of this. Like they can just not talk about hurting each other and it’ll all go away. 

(She does not feel good about how good she feels about him saying that, though.)

She says, “Thanks,” because she doesn’t honestly think he’ll drop it until she acknowledges it. He takes a step forward. She takes a step backward. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m still mad at you, too.” Another step. Allie doesn’t move. He’s a foot away and she wonders if he’ll come closer. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t sexy and I can’t notice.” 

Allie clenches her teeth, looking at him. She thinks this might be the second time he’s used that word to describe her. She thinks the first was last Christmas break.

She likes it way too much, the way his lips curl around the word. That she doesn’t doubt he means it. The way he looks at her as he says it. And she really likes, too, that he’s saying it just to say it. Like he really just wants her to know. Like he couldn’t have let her leave tonight without telling her. 

She feels her cheeks flush, and she thinks he notices that, too, but thank god he doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re still with that guy.” It’s a statement, not a question. Allie nods. “Almost a year?”

She thinks he’s trying to make this sound like they’re just catching up, but they’re _not_ , and she’s on edge, wondering what hurtful things he’ll throw in her face if she confirms it. 

“In April.” He nods his head, slowly, a few times. He steps closer. Allie pins him with a look she thinks is not as hard as she wants it to be. She thinks it might come off as a bit of a plea. If she moves forward, the toes of their shoes will be touching. “Harry.”

Why did he ask if she’s still got a boyfriend, then move into her space?

(Why isn’t she moving away? She absolutely could. She’s choosing to stay here.)

He says, “I miss you,” so softly it takes her a moment to realize what he’s said. He’s not even looking at her face. She realizes he’s looking at her necklace. He smiles a little. “Can’t hate me too much, then.” 

His fingers reach up and he holds the star between his thumb and forefinger. 

Allie needs to break the tension or she’s going to lose her fucking mind. 

“This necklace is like, part of my identity at this point.” Harry huffs out a laugh, lets go and drops his hand. “The brand.” The look he’s giving her makes her feel like her breathing goes a little ragged. “Why did you invite me?” 

Honestly, all she’s been thinking about since she realized his mother thinks everything is normal between them. Did he do this because he wanted to see her, or did he do it to save face? It shouldn’t matter, but it does. A lot. He’s already said he misses her, but she still needs to know. 

“It seemed weird you wouldn’t be here.” He shrugs his shoulders, which is infuriating. “Even if I’m pissed at you.”

Allie laughs a little. “You’re doing a shitty job of showing you’re pissed at me right now.” She’s absolutely referring to his compliments, his confession, how close he is. Harry’s face is blank. 

He says, deadpan, “You’re in my bedroom.” And okay, like. Yeah, she brought them here and gave them the space to be alone to talk. She doesn’t feel like they’re actually talking about anything, though. They’re saying words, but not getting anywhere. He adds, “What does that say about you?”

She knows her jaw drops, and she is _so insulted_. Tears are hot in her eyes and she feels her chin trembling. That was so fucking mean and unecessary. If he thinks it’s at all okay for him to say that to her, he’s absolutely incorrect. 

“You’re an asshole,” she breathes out, shaking her head. She doesn’t even really mean it, maybe. It’s hard to say, is all she knows. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she snaps. He at least looks like he feels badly. She doesn’t care, though. He can’t hurt her on purpose and then apologize and think that makes it okay. 

She feels really, really awful about the fact that they can’t even seem to interact with one another anymore. Their timing is all off. The rhythm that they had, born from years of friendship. The banter. The care. 

“This is all really fucking hard, okay?” he says, and it sounds like an accusation. She dabs her eye gently, hoping not to ruin her makeup or let on to anyone downstairs that she’s been crying. 

“I _know_. You’re not the only one with feelings here.”

“Did I say that?” he asks, and he’s mad, and Allie shouldn’t have come to this stupid party. But then his hand reaches out, pushes her hair back from her face and then sits on her shoulder over the strap of her top. He’s looking down. At her necklace or her chest or something. “Allie.” 

She has no idea what she’s supposed to say to that. But it doesn’t really matter, because he leans in closer, then, and presses his lips to hers. It’s soft, and she feels something like _relief_ , goes a little pliant and wants to cry. He can’t just _do this_. She puts her hand on his chest and pushes, leans away, too. 

“ _Harry_ ,” she almost gasps, and his eyes slip closed like she’s breaking his heart, or he feels stupid, or maybe something else she doesn’t want to think about. “I have a boyfriend. God. You can’t just _kiss me_.”

“I…”

He doesn't finish and she doesn’t want him to. She’s so angry with him she can barely see straight, feels her chest rising and falling. He might say something in sort of a worried voice about her taking a deep breath. She holds her hands up to keep him at a distance. 

“This is so typical.” He blinks. “You just want what you want, and fuck what I want, right?” Okay, anger settles in on his face. She doesn’t care. “And this is another chance for you to say that _I’m_ the one who fucked everything up.” He stays quiet, doesn’t respond. Allie swallows the lump in her throat and tilts her chin up a bit. “Forget it,” she adds, shaking her head. She walks past him and reaches for her glass where she set it down. “I won’t say anything to your mom. So don’t worry about your ego, or whatever it is you’re scared of.”

He says, “Fuck you, Allie,” as she’s leaving his bedroom, and she wonders why there’s so much truth to the statement that the people who know you best are the ones who can hurt you most. 

She keeps her distance the rest of the night. Grizz sees her come downstairs, asks her if she’s okay. She shakes her head no, and then Harry comes downstairs and walks in the opposite direction. Grizz sighs and puts his arm around her. She doesn’t want to cry, so she says his name and he pulls away. 

She pecks Grizz’s lips at midnight, and hugs Helena and Luke. Harry’s nearby and she reaches out her hand while her other arm is around Helena. Harry gives her a dark look but takes her hand when he notices his mom is watching them. He and Allie hug, but there’s nothing but tension in it. 

Allie catches Karen’s eye and she can tell by the look the woman gives her that she knows something’s wrong. Predictably, it seems pointless for him to have tried to dupe her.

When Allie gets home she realizes she’s missed three texts and a call from her boyfriend. It’s too late to get back to him, and then Allie cries when Helena sends her a picture she took earlier, when she and Harry were in the kitchen. He’s looking down and smiling and Allie’s drinking from a champagne flute, her shoulders turned just enough towards him to make it look like she’s _his_. She honestly doesn’t know what to do with this. But she saves it to her camera roll, and knows without a doubt that Helena sent him the picture, too. 

… … …

(Okay, but how can they look that good together when they’re fighting and haven’t seen each other or really spoken much in six months? It’s not right.)

… … …

They’re saying goodbye to Grizz. He called them all over before his drive back to Cornell. Allie isn’t enough of a baby not to show up for her friend just because she thinks maybe Harry’s going to be there. And he is. He looks like shit, but she’s obviously not going to tell him so. She knows she doesn’t look her best either. The best she could do is joggers and a sweatshirt, because Grizz is leaving early and she didn’t feel like showering. It’s been two days since New Years and she meets Harry’s eyes, purses her lips. He nods in her direction. She can still hear the last words he said directly to her, and she’s still bothered by them. Grizz hugs them all, and then his parents, and then gets into his car and rolls the window down, cranks some dumb music and drives away with his arm waving out the window. God, she loves that kid. 

Helena and Luke are leaving tonight, so they say their goodbyes then, too, once the Vissers have gone inside. Helena holds Allie’s hand a beat too long and gives her a sad smile that basically screams, _“Talk to Harry.”_

That is absolutely the opposite of what she wants to do. 

“I don’t think we should talk anymore,” she says once Helena and Luke are in their car and starting the engine. Harry says nothing. She looks up at him and he’s got a dead look on his face. “I don’t want to.” 

He pauses a beat, then says, “Fine,” and sounds mad. She gets it. 

“We just keep hurting each other. I don’t need…” His eyes fly up to hers. She absolutely wasn’t about to say she doesn’t need him. That’s not… “You can hate me if you want to, but I can’t handle you telling me you do.”

“I don’t hate you,” he says, makes it sound like she’s stupid for thinking so. She kind of doesn’t want to hear it. It’ll make this harder.

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk to me, either, or me to talk to you. This is…” She sighs, tired, and grips her keys in her pocket until they sort of hurt her palm. She looks at him again and he’s just watching her, waiting. “Let’s just call it.”

For a second, she thinks he’s going to say something. She thinks he’s going to tell her this is a stupid idea, and they’ve been friends too long and care too much about each other to just let it go. Cassandra was right - they’re backed by a 10 (11? who’s counting) year friendship. It’s truly stupid that now that they’re adults, they can’t seem to make it work. She thought friendships would get easier the older she got. That emotional intelligence would help with that. And it’s true of her friendships with most people, but not with Harry. She doesn’t know why that is and why they can’t talk about it in a way that feels meaningful and good and healthy. 

She’s got too much shit going on in her life to feel this badly about such a big portion of it. It’s really best that they just recognize that now. 

The way he says, “Whatever you want, Allie,” sounds a little like a dig, but he mostly sounds _tired_ , and god, she gets that, too. She’s exhausted. 

She wants to kiss his cheek, or touch him, or something, but she also thinks the entire way the ended up here was by giving mixed signals, or doing things without saying why or talking about them. 

“Okay,” she whispers, and walks back to her car, and when she looks in the rearview, he’s opening his own car door. He follows her out of Grizz’s neighbourhood, turns left when she turns right. 

And that’s that.


	8. Chapter 8

Her coach sets her up with a volunteering opportunity with a local soccer team for young girls. Allie wants to laugh at how unorganized and ridiculous it is. Not even just the fact that the kids are young and it’s obvious there’re only a few who actually care about soccer, but the actual team. The practices aren’t structured, and the coach is the mom of one of the kids and is pregnant and Allie offers, gently, so she’s not stepping on toes, to come up with drills and scrimmages and some structure for Saturday mornings and Wednesday evenings when they practice. The woman sounds relieved. 

Allie takes a photo when all the girls are lined up by the goal before practice starts. Every last one of them is blonde. She thinks it’s hilarious. She gets the parents’ permission before posting it to her Instagram. She took the picture from behind so you can’t see any of their faces. 

She captions it _mini me(s)_ and immediately gets a bunch of likes. 

Colleen, the coach, tells her she’s really good with kids, and Allie’s super relieved. 

… … …

After Cassandra has finally admitted that she kept tabs on Harry and was nice to him last summer because she could tell he was a mess, Allie reflects on how stupid she was to be jealous at all about any of it. Apparently, Cassandra and Helena sort of conspired to make sure he was okay. Apparently, too, he didn’t appreciate it. She’s not surprised and doesn’t blame him. 

Cassandra also tells Allie that she and Gordie are dating, and Allie screams out, “Finally!” because honestly they’ve been dancing around each other for _years_. She stops being so smug when she realizes what she’s said. But she knows they had a thing in senior year that sort of fizzled out while they were both bogged down with maintaining their GPAs. They go to different schools, but they’re not too far away from each other. Allie’s happy for them. She doesn’t really need all the details on how it happened. Cassandra just says they talked it through over the holidays and realized they really actually wanted to make this work.

She texts Gordie, _’Hey Romeo’_ after she gets off the phone with her sister, and he responds with a blushing emoji. Cute. 

Helena won’t stop asking her what happened between her and Harry. Allie asks her why she isn’t asking Harry, and Helena replies, “I am.” Allie doesn’t know if that means Helena’s trying to see if their stories match up, or it means Harry’s not saying anything. She’s assuming it’s the latter. 

“We decided to not be friends anymore,” she says when they’re on the phone. Allie’s got some school work to focus on, but she worries she’s being a shitty friend by blowing Helena off three days in a row, so she gave in and got on FaceTime. 

“Don’t give me some conscious uncoupling crap. What could’ve possibly…”

“We slept together last Christmas, and I didn’t want it to be a big thing, then I met Simon and messed everything up by not telling Harry. He found out, was pissed, and we’ve been saying mean shit to each other since.” Allie knows Helena probably won’t appreciate all the cursing, but it is what it is. “We were kind of really awful to each other at New Years. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“He said you said you don’t want to be his friend.” 

“I don’t,” Allie says, way too easily. And it’s not that she _means it_ , really, she just… “We weren’t friends for a long time before now. We were just pretending. I’d rather just do it this way so we know where we stand.” 

There’s a silence, and then Helena lets out her breath and says, “I’m sorry,” all quietly, and Allie waits for more. “That must be really hard for you.”

Allie almost feels like crying, because it’s _true_. It _is_ hard. She doesn’t want to keep going over it again and again with people because they don’t get it. They don’t have to get it. They’re not the ones living it. There’s her and Harry in this friendship, and there’s her and Harry out of it. They don’t need anyone else’s guidance or permission on what to do. Part of her wishes she’d been able to set better boundaries between her and her friends when she was younger. Now they all seem to feel entitled to the full story, and mad at her when she won’t tell it. 

That’s really not fair, she knows. It’s just still kind of painful and not fun to relive it and she doesn’t want to keep doing it. Nor does she really love the idea of a bunch of people knowing exactly what went down. It’s been easier to say they grew apart. Helena’s the only one, really, who knows the truth, and that’s because Allie trusts her not to spread shit around, because that’s not who she is. 

“I think it was just as hard to actually be friends,” she admits. Maya turns her head a bit to listen. Allie doesn’t really care. Weirdly, she’s told Maya everything, too. But it feels different because her roommate doesn’t know Harry. “You know how we were. How I felt about him. We just missed our chance. And that’s fine, I guess. If he didn’t feel…”

“Allie,” Helena says, almost pleading. “You know he felt.”

That’s a complete sentence, and it kind of knocks her over. 

Allie shakes her head. _Not enough_. “We just need to stop trying to force it. It’s better this way. People end friendships all the time.”

Helena purses her lips like she wants to say more, but isn’t going to. She says, “Okay,” and then asks Allie how her courses are shaping up this semester. 

It’s really stupid but Allie’s grateful that her and Harry imploding hasn’t affected her friendships with anyone else. 

… … …

Harry has literally never posted a picture of himself with a girl. Not since high school. She knows, because she goes back and checks when she sees _this_ one. Because she's a little drunk, and it’s a Friday night, and there’s a photo he’s posted amongst a series where he’s holding a beer in one hand and a brunette in the other. Or, his arm is around her and she’s making a face she probably thinks is hot, and Harry’s got a smug smirk on his face. There’re other photos, too, of blurry city lights and some other people. Allie recognizes a couple of them just from other pictures he showed her when they were still talking. 

She had too much sangria at this party she went to with a girl from her modern lit class. She went because she realized it’s been weeks since she hung out with anyone who isn’t her boyfriend, or on the soccer team. Now she’s wishing she’d stayed home so she would’ve been asleep and missed this post. 

She doesn’t want to unfollow him. She knows he’s still following her, too. He doesn’t like or comment on anything. She’s not gonna like or comment on anything he posts. He’s way less active than her anyway. Which is another reason she’s reading way too much into the fact that he’s posting _this_ now. 

She closes Instagram, because she has spent entirely too much time on this at this point, being stupid and trying to figure him out, which is a thing she’s always been bad at, apparently. 

She texts Simon something dirty that he’ll wake up to in the morning, brushes her teeth, and arranges her pillows so she’s sandwiched between them and the wall. 

… … …

Simon gets her a gold necklace with sparkly little circles on it for their one year anniversary. She nearly has a literal fucking panic attack when she thinks about taking her star necklace off. 

He must be able to read the look on her face, because he sort of laughs, takes the chain from the box, and tells her, “I made sure it was the right length so you could wear both.” She feels like she can breathe again. 

When she looks in the mirror, she thinks the new necklace actually makes the other one more noticeable, the way it sits not even an inch below and catches the light. 

… … …

Simon hands out Nature Valley bars and orange slices at her kids’ team’s soccer games. He’s wearing a green shirt - not quite the shade of their jerseys, but he’s got the spirit - and stands by the coolers with water and Gatorade during the game, saying encouraging things and making the girls laugh. Allie knows he used to work with the kids’ group at his church at home, so she’s never really been surprised that he’s like this with the kids. 

“He’s a good one,” Colleen tells her, like it’s some kind of secret or gossip or… 

Look, Allie really likes the woman. She really likes that she’s only taken a little bit of time off and now wears a baby in a sling on her front as she coaches. But she sort of hates this thing women older than her do where they talk about her and Simon like they’re a breath away from spending their entire lives together, or something. 

“I know,” Allie says, arms crossed as the girls on the field run past them. She glances at Simon over her shoulder and he gives her a grin. He looks super hot with his aviators on and his skin starting to tan in the sun. She reaches up to touch her necklace - the one he gave her - and then looks back at Colleen. “Where’s Mr. Colleen today?”

They both sort of smile - the girls call Bradley that and Allie thinks it’s freaking hilarious. 

No one calls Simon Mr. Allie. They just call him Simon. He high fives the girls when the game is over. He high fives Allie, too. Then Colleen. Then baby Isaiah. 

Allie sort of loves him, you know?

… … …

She finishes her semester strong, with her lowest mark as a B+. It’s her best semester yet, and she’s proud of herself for what she’s been able to do. Honestly, sometimes juggling training, coaching, a social life and a boyfriend, while also making sure she studies enough, turns in good work on time and participates in classes...Cassandra says Allie’s turning into _her_ and Allie says there’re a lot of people who’d probably love to see that actually happen. She doesn’t mean it fully, but she means it a little. 

She’s kind of past thinking her parents aren’t proud of her, or don’t care, or don’t understand. She and her mom have actually never been closer, and her dad has started sending her memes and comments on all the US Women’s National Team stuff he finds. It’s sort of sweet. 

She doesn’t go home on her short break before training camp. She’s got the kids team and doesn’t want to be away for weeks while they’re playing games. Colleen would be totally fine coaching alone, but Allie made a commitment and she’s serious about those. 

And Simon’s working at a bar, which means most of his evenings are spoken for, but it also means he can sleep in and lay around in bed with her until past noon. They order in food to his apartment and he laughs at her when she sits cross legged on his couch in one of his tee shirts with a pizza box open on her lap. She tells him the girls’ theories about eating all the shit they want before camp when they have to get serious about their diets again. 

Simon gets a dark look in his eye, looks her up and down and tells her he thinks she’s probably in fine shape and he sees no room for improvement. 

“I’m not perfect,” she says, and she can feel the pizza grease on her lips. He’s just standing there in a white tee shirt and jeans looking absolutely too hot for his own good. If she wasn’t so hungry, she’d be asking him to take his clothes off. 

“Not looking for perfect, babe.” 

Allie smiles and has a split second where she thinks that was kind of a shit response, but doesn’t know why and then stops thinking about it. 

… … …

She and Maya don’t move out of their suite, but Raegan, now a sophomore, moves into Ashley’s old room. Allie likes Raegan, but she misses Ashley. The girl’s moved back home to Tennessee and texting Allie daily about how annoying it is to live with her parents again as she job hunts and tries to ‘sort out her shit’. 

It’s a sunny day and they’re coming back from practice and Raegan says, “I kinda flirt with one of the security guards sometimes and he told me how to get up onto the roof. You wanna?”

Allie can’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t go for it. 

Maya pulls out some vodka coolers and they definitely should not drink on the roof in the middle of a day in the heat during training camp, but...there are only six coolers, which means two each, and Allie thinks they can all handle their alcohol. 

So that’s how she ends up on the roof of her dorm, in a bikini and the Ray Bans she treated herself to to celebrate her good grades, drinking this shitty vodka drink and listening to music playing from Maya’s phone. 

She gets a sunburn on her chest and her nose and the vodka goes straight to her head. She takes a picture anyway, a selfie of her with the pink straps of her bathing suit visible, both her necklaces, her sunglasses, her hair up in a mess on top of her head. She captions it _this just can’t be summer love_ because that’s the Justin Timberlake song that’s playing.

When she checks later, after drinking a bunch of water and applying some aloe to her chest, she notices Harry’s among the people who’ve liked the photo. 

Simon has commented with the kiss emoji. 

Allie locks her phone, throws it onto her bed, and absolutely hates how hard she thinks about all this. 

… … …

She’s named captain of the team, even though that honour usually goes to a senior.

Allie can already feel the pressure building on her shoulders. Simon tells her it’ll all be okay. Maya tells her she better start working on some pre-game speeches. Cassandra tells her she’s a born leader. 

She really only takes Cassandra’s thing seriously. Mostly because it takes her sister 45 minutes to actually convince her there’s any truth to it. 

“You really think I’m…” 

“What?” Good enough?” Cassandra asks, and she’s laughing, as though she really, truly believes this is a ridiculous question. “You’ve never given yourself enough credit for being able to motivate people. God, in high school, you…”

Allie closes her eyes as Cassandra stops. She wasn’t sure where that was going until it wasn’t going at all, and now she knows it was almost certainly about to be something about Harry. 

To break the tension, she says, “I guess I’m good at using blunt honesty to get people to do what I want.”

Cassandra laughs. “I mean, that’s one way.” 

And then she launches into talking about this negotiation tactic she’s learning in one of her classes. Allie smiles and listens and says thank you before she hangs up. 

… … …

“He’s dating some girl,” Grizz says, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Allie asks, “Who?” trying to beat him at his own game. 

“Harry.”

“That’s nice. Is she pretty?”

“Allie,” he almost whispers, like he’s asking her to be serious and stop pretending. 

And like, pass. 

“Right,” she laughs. “Of course she is.”

Grizz pauses, sighs, and says, “Yeah. Harry’s only ever gone after the prettiest girls.”

Allie cannot let herself respond or react to that. 

Apparently her name is Elizabeth and she’s a musical theatre major. She comes from money - her dad is someone famous, but no one will tell Allie who. She wonders if they’re trying to spare her. She doesn’t know why they think she’ll care. She cares about as much about Harry having a girlfriend as…

He posts a picture of some girl backlit by the sun, long straight hair almost glowing. He doesn’t caption it, which Allie thinks is stupid, but is also a thing he does regularly. Usually his Instagram is artistic shots of architecture or lens flares or shit he sees out in the world. He really rarely posts people. Allie knows it must be serious if he’s posting a photo of this girl with no one else in the frame. 

Not for the first time - not for the hundredth time - she wonders what he’s like as an actual boyfriend now that they’re older. 

… … ...

Her boyfriend gets into a fight one night at work and Allie doesn’t find out about it for two days. Granted, she’s out of town for a game, but it’s sort of fucked up that he doesn’t even tell her. She just sees him when she gets back and they meet up after she’s dropped her things off in her room, and he’s got a black eye that looks absolutely disgusting, and bruises on his knuckles. 

“What the hell happened?” she asks, worried.

“It’s nothing.” He’s almost smiling. Like this is funny? Or like she’s overreacting or has no reason to be surprised to see him like this. She just stares at him, puts her hand on his face and runs her thumb gently against his brow bone. His expression goes a bit soft as he looks at her. “This idiot was saying something about you.”

Allie’s brow furrows. “What?”

She’s not asking what the guy was saying, she just really doesn’t understand what he’s saying. 

“I was watching the game with Ennis and Travis. This dude was being gross.”

“So you punched him?” she asks, incredulous. Like, this makes no sense. 

“No,” he says, and he stops grinning and then starts again. “I told him to stop, that he shouldn’t talk about people that way, and that you’re my girlfriend.” Allie blinks a bit, hating that she finds it kind of hot that he got into a _fight_ over her. “He said something dumb about me being flattered that people wanted to…” He stops himself. Allie can fill in the blanks. “So I told him to shut the fuck up, and he punched me in the face.”

Allie laughs. She can’t help it. Her boyfriend swears so very rarely that there’s something absolutely hilarious about this. And it’s stupid that she’s the kind of girl who likes this. Stupid.

She leans up to kiss him, murmurs that she loves him, and he says he thought she’d be mad, or something. She shakes her head, puts her hand under his shirt, and god, he ticks his brow up and Allie wants to think that’s lame, but actually doesn’t. Something feels off about it, but she can’t pinpoint what it is and stops trying shortly after her shirt comes off. 

… … …

Her parents and Cassandra come to visit in August before Cassandra starts her senior year. She’s got two games while they’re here, and she didn’t realize until they made the plans how much she missed them coming to her games. Her dad’s in the background when she’s talking to her mom on FaceTime. He’s telling her how cheap he got the plane tickets, and how he’s wearing exclusively Gators shirts while he’s there. He walks past with a bucket hat on saying something about Florida Man and Allie knows he’s absolutely going to embarrass her. Part of her is actually looking forward to it. 

They spring for a hotel suite so Allie can stay with them. She says she’s not going to sleep there on game nights, because her schedule and routine is actually really important to her. They understand. 

She cries when she sees them. She feels sort of stupid, but then her mom’s got tears in her eyes, too, and it sort of makes sense. They haven’t seen one another since January, and they’ve never seen her here, where she’s been living her life for a couple years. It feels like a big deal. 

She holds Cassandra’s hand as they walk across from the parking lot to the dorm. Maya’s home, and her whole family is familiar with her at this point. They all hug, and one of the first things Maya asks is if they’ve met Simon yet. Allie rolls her eyes. But she supposes it makes sense. She knows her mom’s absolutely dying to meet Simon. He’s working today, but they’re all going to have lunch tomorrow. Honestly, Allie wanted to have her first day with her whole family alone, and Simon understood that and wasn’t bothered in the slightest. 

She leaves the hotel room in the morning, careful not to wake Cassandra. She’s got to get to practice, and she figures she’ll just get an Uber or something. But then her Dad’s there, drinking a cup of what’s probably bad coffee. He smiles at her, asks if she wants a ride, and he’s not really asking, Allie realizes. He woke up early so he could take her. She smiles at him, tilts her head a little to let him know she knows what he’s up to, and slings her bag up onto her shoulder. He insists she can’t possibly go through a whole practice without eating food, but she tells him actually she usually doesn’t eat anything til after. He buys her a banana in the hotel cafe anyway, and Allie laughs and rolls her eyes, but loves him fiercely.

She showers at Simon’s after practice. She’s drinking the smoothie he gave her when she walked in the door - because that’s a thing he does, like a little routine of theirs, and she can’t stand how cute and domestic it is. (Can’t stand it in a good way.) He tells her she’s going to make them late if she doesn’t hurry up and clean the soccer stink off her. He’s completely ready. She wonders if he’s been this nervous all morning. 

She pulls on the pale blue summer dress she left here for this occasion, doesn’t bother with any makeup other than mascara and tinted lip balm. He tells her she looks pretty. They hold hands on their way to the restaurant. 

Allie doesn’t know what the hell is happening, really, but she can tell her dad likes Simon, and that her mom isn’t as impressed. There’s something in the questions her mom asks that sets Allie’s teeth on edge. She pokes at her salad and catches eyes with Cassandra next to her, as if to ask if she’s making it up. Her mom’s just asked, “And do you do anything for fun? Real fun.” It’s a fucking weird way of wording it and Allie doesn’t know what she’s getting at. Simon doesn’t notice anything, because he’s only meeting them for the first time. Allie doesn’t want to give him any reason to think this isn’t going well. That doesn’t seem fair to him. 

He kisses her cheek as they’re leaving. Allie gets into her parents’ car and is quiet the entire way back to the hotel. Her mom’s reading out the signs of places they pass and Allie has to stop herself from telling the woman to shut up. Like, how did she go from being stuffy and inquisitive to this so quickly. 

No one’s talking about Simon. 

Once they’re in the suite, she asks, “So? What did you think?” and knows that she’s got to brace herself for the answer. 

She feels stupid for not considering for a second that her parents wouldn’t like him. 

“He’s a good kid,” her dad says, and Allie rolls her eyes, smiling. “I like him. He’s smart and seems he can keep up with you.”

She laughs a little. Cassandra’s smiling as she slips her sandals off her feet. 

Her mom’s fussing with the curtains in the room and Allie’s going to lose it. 

“Mom?”

She sighs, turns, and looks like she really doesn’t want to say anything. But Allie knows her mother and knows she can’t help herself.

“I think…” She stops, looks at Cassandra. Allie glances between them. Have they _talked_ about this? Like, before even meeting him? Allie doesn’t want to be mad yet. She’s trying not to be. “He’s nice.” There’s more. Allie waits. She thinks they’re all holding their breath. “He seems quite stable and reliable.”

Allie’s brows come together. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Like, god. She’s been with this guy for almost a year and a half at this point. There’s a lot that’s stable about it. She likes that. 

Her mom purses her lips. “He just seems a bit…” She pauses to select her word. Allie’s fingers press against her palm. “Conservative. Not politically,” she adds, and Allie’s confused, knows it’s showing on her face. “It seems like he’s someone better suited for a girl like Cassandra.”

Allie feels her eyes go wide. She feels her throat get tight. She feels her mouth open and a whoosh of breath leave her lips. 

She can’t fucking _believe_ what she’s hearing. She’s just introduced her boyfriend to her parents and her mom has found a way to make this about _Cassandra_? She’s so insulted, and hurt, and she feels like she’s fucking nine years old again, begging for attention and doing all the right things to get it, and barely being spared a glance for her efforts. 

She won’t look at her sister. 

“Right,” Allie says, and it’s soft instead of bitter, which she hates herself for. 

“Amanda,” her dad says, like some kind of warning. Like he can see this steamrolling towards disaster and wants to stop it. Allie just can’t believe they’ve made it not even 36 hours before making her feel like shit. She feels like an idiot for thinking they were in a good place. For thinking anything had changed. 

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be with him,” her mom says, and Allie scoffs. 

“As if I’d listen to you anyway,” she says, which is bratty and childish and makes her look like the worst, but at this point, she’s wondering if it even matters. Apparently there’s nothing she can do to make it seem like she’s mature and adult enough for a stable relationship anyway. Might as well go for broke. “Maybe if I were more like Cassandra, I’d be bothered to care about your opinion.”

It’s a stupid thing to say. She obviously cares. She wouldn’t be standing here, furious and verging on tears, if she didn’t care. 

“Hey,” Cassandra says, like maybe now she’s offended, too, and Allie _swears_ if her sister _also_ makes this about her, Allie’s going to scream. “Let’s just. Cool down.”

“Good idea,” Allie says, reaching for her purse off the couch where she dropped it when she came in. Her duffle is at Simon’s, thank god. There’s nothing else here she needs to take with her. “I’ll do that somewhere else.”

“Allie,” her mom says. Pleads. Allie doesn’t want to hear it. 

She leaves without saying anything else. She’s pressing the button for the elevator repeatedly when her dad comes into the hallway and stands next to her silently. She wipes at her tears with the edge of her hand and he doesn’t say anything. 

He unlocks the car and asks her where she wants him to take her. It makes her cry harder. She gives him directions to Simon’s, but doesn’t say anything else. 

Her dad reaches for her wrist before she can get out. She dares to meet his eyes. 

“She didn’t mean to compare you.”

Allie laughs humorlessly. “She obviously did. She should’ve just said he’s too good for me.”

Her dad tilts his head like she should know that’s not true. She _doesn’t_ , is the thing. “She doesn’t think that,” he says firmly. Allie stays quiet. “You’re more fun than him.” She laughs a little. She thinks, sometimes, that’s true. But it doesn’t mean they can’t make it work. They've been making it work for so long now. “He’s just not what she expected.”

“Why not?” is what she asks, and maybe that’s what bothers her. Why is it so fucking hard to believe that she could be with someone and be stable and happy and sometimes a little boring? She likes it, so why can’t anyone else believe she’s capable of if? 

He looks like he’s not sure how to say the next part. What he settles on is, “Maybe she’s used to a little drama,” and he says it gently enough to let her know without a doubt that he’s talking about Harry. About her and Harry. 

Allie hugs him when she gets out of the car. She lets herself into Simon’s building. Halfway up the stairs, she has to stop and make herself breathe. She’s sitting there on the landing in her dress when Simon’s neighbour, Mr. Daley, comes up with his groceries and asks if she’s okay. She says yes, but it’s a lie. 

… … …

She scores two goals in the first game her parents are at since high school. She’s fuelled almost entirely by spite.

“Okay, beast mode,” Maya says to her afterward. Allie’s knee is bouncing up and down as she sips water and tries to get up enough nerve to go and face her parents. Her friend pats her on the back. They’d had a long talk last night and Maya knows what happened. “We should piss you off more often.”

Allie smiles just a little, but she also feels sort of shitty. She was able to put it aside for the game, but now…

Simon’s standing with her parents, and he’s talking to Cassandra, and Allie’s filled with a hot discontent that she’s not sure she’ll be able to control. They’re in town for three more days, and Allie doesn’t want anyone to be able to say she’s the one who ruined it. They’re all going for dinner at one of her and Simon’s favourite places - this Mexican spot that has amazing enchiladas and unlimited chips and salsa. She tells her dad she’s heard the margaritas are good, too, and he laughs at her trying to pretend that’s hearsay and she hasn’t had them here while still very much underage. 

Cassandra gets up to go to the washroom with her when Allie says she’ll be right back. She hasn’t talked to her sister since yesterday; hasn’t known what to say. 

They’re side by side, washing their hands, and Cassandra says, “I’m sorry she said that.” Allie sighs. Cassandra isn’t the one who should be apologizing. “She wasn’t trying to be...She just wants what’s best for you.”

Allie scoffs. “She wants what’s best for _you_. She wants _me_ not to be a problem.”

“ _Allie _.”__

__Allie dries her hands, pulls the door open using the paper towel, then throws it into the trash and holds the door open with her heel so Cassandra can walk through. Only Cassandra’s not budging. Allie rolls her eyes._ _

__“It’s fine. It’s been this way since we were like, eight. I just need to remind myself how to not care.”_ _

__“Not caring is never the solution,” Cassandra says, sounding serious. Then - and Allie thinks this is said just to piss her off - she adds, “But I think you’re good at pretending, and if that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you.”_ _

__Allie walks out, not caring if the door swings shut behind her. She kisses Simon gently on the lips when she returns to the table. He says he was just talking to her parents about his plans for grad school. She smiles and holds his hand under the table and she tries not to think about what it means that she’s running out of time in college and he’s taking on a whole other degree._ _

__(Thinking about serious things somehow feels like she’s proving her mother right, and she refuses. It makes her mad when she realizes avoiding the serious things proves her mother right, too.)_ _

__… … …_ _

__They do talk it out. Simon takes his leave after dinner because he has to work, and her mom wants to walk around this little downtown area. Cassandra loops her arm through Allie’s after Simon walks away, and Allie mutters an apology for being a bitch in the bathroom. Cassandra laughs and says, “Oh, my god. If I had a dime for every time you were a bitch in the bathroom…” and they laugh and swap stories about how they used to share the one upstairs at home and fight over who took the longest._ _

__(Cassandra, obviously.)_ _

__It’s hot and humid and eventually Cassandra stops to read some plaque or another and their dad stops, too, and Allie and her mom keep walking._ _

__“He’s really lovely,” her mom says. Allie just nods. She’s tired of fighting. It takes so much fucking energy. “He makes you seem more grown up than I want you to be.”_ _

__Allie smiles a little. “They don’t put that in the handbook, huh? That your kids are gonna be adults and you’ve gotta be okay with it?”_ _

__Her mom looks so _relieved_ that it almost makes Allie feel guilty for acting like such a snot. Almost. (She still thinks she was justified.) _ _

__“It’s in there, I think it’s just impossible to prepare for.” Allie reaches up, her fingers finding her necklace. The one Simon gave her, not the other one. “You should know how proud I am of you.” Allie blinks fast, looking down at her feet. “It’s hard. She just needed us _so much_ when you both were younger. I didn’t have to worry as much about you.” _ _

__Allie shakes her head. “We don’t have to talk about this.”_ _

__Her mom presses their palms together. Allie stops fiddling with her necklace._ _

__“You’ve always made good choices,” her mom says, and Allie scoffs. God, it doesn’t feel like it. “I trust you.”_ _

__These are words she didn’t realize she needed to hear until this very second._ _

__“Thanks,” she says quietly, because she doesn’t know what else to say. Her mom stops, hugs her, and then her dad is putting his arms around both of them, and then there’s someone right behind her and she can smell Cassandra’s perfume as she laughs._ _

__… … …_ _

__Okay, so, the thing is, she feels really fucking stupid in September when she’s sitting in Simon’s apartment as he studies and he says something absolutely terrifying that she can’t ignore. It almost proves her mom right. Allie doesn’t know what to say._ _

__Because, see, she’s listening to a podcast - and she doesn’t know how he can concentrate on his books with this chatter in the background, but he’s always been good at drowning things out, he says. The podcast is sponsored by a jewelry company and when they’re talking about engagement rings, he looks up from his books and gives Allie this really sort of objectively gorgeous look, and she can’t possibly ignore what he’s trying to communicate._ _

__She shouldn’t ask, “What?” but she does, and that’s a mistake._ _

__“Nothing,” he says, smiling. She tosses a pencil at him. He laughs and catches it. “Thinking about us.”_ _

__She goes back to looking at her phone, because she absolutely cannot think about this right now. They’re too young to be thinking about marriage. She’s had like, two boyfriends and one...Harry. There’s no way she’s ready, and she doesn’t know how he could be. And it’s not like he’s getting down on one knee, but the fact that he can even imagine it scares the _fuck_ out of her. _ _

__She’s being distant and avoiding him and she knows it. It’s two weeks before he calls her on it. She lies and says she’s focusing on soccer, and he gives her a little smile and says she’s always focusing on soccer and that’s never been an issue before._ _

__In early October, they’re alone in her room and she finally says, “You said something about us being...long term.”_ _

__He looks at her like she’s missed something completely. “It’s been a year and a half. We’re long term, Allie.”_ _

__His smile is nervous. She has a bad feeling about this._ _

__“About marriage,” she clarifies._ _

__Simon’s face falls, like he’s realizing what she’s referring to. She doesn’t expect him to ask, “Do you not think about it?” She _knows_ she looks at him like he’s insane. She never thought, until this very moment, that maybe it’s weird she doeesn’t. “Seriously?”_ _

__“I’m 20,” she reminds him. He doesn’t respond. He must not think that’s a good enough answer. “I’m nowhere near ready to be thinking about that.”_ _

__Simon tilts his head, his eyes betraying how hurt he is by this. Allie doesn’t know what to do now. “Allie, if you’re not...What are we doing?” Her heart drops. She doesn’t want to _break up_ , she just doesn’t want him to be thinking about a fucking ring. “I’m not saying tomorrow.” _ _

__“I know,” she tells him, but she thinks the fact that she sounds relieved probably gives her away. She didn’t know._ _

__She isn’t sure it really matters._ _

__“You can stop freaking out,” he says, half grin on his lips. He puts his arms around her. She lets him._ _

__She doesn’t feel better._ _

__She tries. Honestly. Really. She tells herself maybe she was being crazy and presumptuous. He’s also only 21 and people their age can be thinking about the future without putting timelines on things or trying to order their steps in a single direction without room for other things to happen. God, even Helena and Luke aren’t talking about marriage. She knows it because she made a comment last week about the two of them saving up for rings and Helena had laughed and said something about ‘absolutely not, until we finish school’. So like, if the people who’ve been together for _years_ aren’t entertaining it, why is Simon?_ _

__The thing that really drives it home for her is that Simon doesn’t seem to notice that she’s still thinking about this, that everything isn’t fine, and that she’s being distant. Or if he notices, he’s not saying anything. And frankly, neither of those things feel okay to her. He can’t avoid the hard conversation just because he’s scared of the outcome. And if he’s just not noticing, then she starts thinking maybe he doesn’t know her as well as she thought he did - as well as he thought he did. It sends her thinking way too hard about if they should be together. If she wants them to be together._ _

__She cries when she breaks up with him, which feels unfair. He doesn’t seem surprised. She wonders if he would’ve just stayed with her even if things felt off. It makes her feel like shit._ _

__She calls Cassandra who sounds too sympathetic and sweet and nice, and Allie sort of wishes someone would tell her she’s being an asshole to a perfectly nice guy because she’s scared. But no one does. Not her sister or her parents. Not Maya. Not Helena or Grizz. It makes her wonder if she’s not as awful as she’s been telling herself she is._ _

__“Really? Allie Pressman being unnecessarily hard on herself? Something new and exciting for us all,” Grizz says, smirking at her on FaceTime. She rolls her eyes and asks if he’s made out with anybody cute lately. He lets her get away with changing the subject._ _

__… … …_ _

__They lose the title game in the last five minutes, and Allie doesn’t cry until she’s in the hotel room. She showered at the stadium, but goes into the bathroom and turns the water on too hot. Maya’s out there, just on the other side of the door. They’d talked about how they’re running out of chances. They only have one more year left to win this thing. Coach said it’s a good sign that they keep getting closer and closer, said something about coming back for it next year. Allie’d nodded politely, but wanted to say it’s easy for the coach to say that because she’s under fucking contract. Allie’s a junior and knows the clock is ticking._ _

__She lets the water run and strips down again, until her clothes are in a pile on the floor. Her body is so athletic now, she can barely remember what it looked like before she was competing this hard. She wonders if any of it is fucking worth it. She makes the mistake of unlocking her phone, looking up headlines that’ve come out already. One article says, _Even Allie Pressman couldn’t lead the Gators to victory._ It should make her feel good. People think she’s one of the best. She knows she won’t feel that way until she’s hoisting a trophy. _ _

__Texts are starting to come in from her friends and family. Her grandma sends her a long one that makes Allie cry harder. There’s even one from Simon. Ashley’s texted. Becca sends three black hearts._ _

__Allie gets into the shower, lets it turn her skin pink. She’s still crying, just trying to do it quietly and not full out sob. She starts to feel badly about wasting water, so she decides to make this an actual, proper shower. Maybe it’ll make her feel better to feel even more clean._ _

__Her thumb catches on her star necklace when she’s running her loofah over her skin, and when she pulls her hand away, the chain is broken and she’s holding the necklace in her hand._ _

__She hyperventilates in the shower, only managing to turn off the water after a few minutes. She pulls a towel over herself and clutches the star in her palm until one of the points digs into her flesh too hard and she realizes she’s hurting herself._ _

__She wraps it up carefully in the complimentary shower cap, tucks it into the side of her makeup bag._ _

__Maya asks her if she’s okay, says she was in the bathroom for a fucking hour. Allie shakes her head no and pulls on her pajamas. They both fall asleep too early and wake up at 4am. They go for a run together, and as they catch their breath and stretch after doing five miles, she asks Maya how they’re gonna deal with next year being their last if they don’t win._ _

__Maya doesn’t have an answer, either._ _

__… … …_ _

__It costs $120 to fix her necklace. She doesn’t think twice about it._ _

__… … ..._ _

__Holiday break is better when she isn’t worried about seeing Harry, fighting with Harry, or wanting Harry. It’s almost too easy. It feels odd. She bakes with her grandma, eats too many date cookies and gets laughed at when she says she feels sick. Her grandpa warms brandy and the three of them sit in front of the fire and watch a silly Christmas movie. Allie’s been overserved and can’t drive home. That’s what she tells her dad when she calls to let him know she’s staying over. Her grandpa chuckles in the background._ _

__In the morning, she casts a glance at Harry’s house. The decorations are all white this year, twinkle lights and green boughs lining the porch, and their huge tree in the front window. Allie smiles. She remembers James being the one who liked monochrome. Karen’s family had always had multi-coloured lights growing up, but he’d thought it was tacky. She remembers when she was 13 and he’d asked Harry to help put up the decorations after Thanksgiving had passed. He asked Harry what he thought, and he said he didn’t care. He asked Allie what she thought, and she said she liked white lights, because they were softer and prettier and reminded her of stars. James had put his arm around her and looked at Harry like he was on the losing team._ _

__She drives home slightly hungover, laughing at her wild night with her grandparents, and there’s french toast ready and sitting on the counter when she walks in. Her dad’s in his fancy apron and cooking sausage and eggs._ _

__Allie feels really good about the holidays this year._ _

__She spends New Years drinking Kir Royales with Cassandra, Gordie, Becca, Sam, Will, Kelly, and her parents. They all get way too drunk. Every last one of them. She helps her mom make up beds and sofas for everyone to sleep on. Allie falls asleep with Becca snoring softly on her bed behind her._ _

__She and Grizz meet for breakfast the next day, at this shitty diner they’ve been coming to since high school - it’s far enough away from town that they can have actual conversations without being interrupted or worried someone they know is listening. He tells her that it was messed up to be at Harry’s last night without her there. She asks why. He says something about tradition. She knows he’s not trying to make her feel guilty, but she does, a little, anyway._ _

__She and Helena get their nails done before Helena’s due to go back to school. Allie’s flight is tomorrow._ _

__“He got into law school.”_ _

__Allie smiles too widely at the news. They may not be friends, but she still cares about him._ _

__Her, “Good for him,” might sound a little clipped, but she does mean it to be._ _

__… … …_ _

__She and Colleen take the girls to Dairy Queen after a game they were trailing 3-1 and came back to win 4-3. Colleen’s daughter is holding a Blizzard upside down over Allie’s head, Allie grimacing in fear, and Colleen snaps a photo. Allie posts it to Instagram knowing she’s baiting Harry, but not really knowing why she’s doing it._ _

__She uses the peanut and the chocolate emojis and two greater than signs._ _

__He comments _Same questionable taste in ice cream as always_ and likes the photo almost immediately. Allie smiles and slips her phone into her back pocket and laughs when one of the girls turns around and has chocolate absolutely all over her face. _ _

__… … …_ _

__Cassandra’s in Geneva doing an internship, and the delay on their phone and FaceTime calls, plus the time difference, sort of pisses Allie off. She feels like they aren’t really talking when they talk. They’re more so just trying not to talk over one another. Cassandra sends Allie a list of questions before their next call, and Allie laughs and calls her sister a fucking nerd for this. Cassandra says, “Okay! Question one! How are classes?” and they go through them all, trading answers back and forth._ _

__Allie asks if there are any hot European guys around, and Cassandra smiles and says yes, but also says that she and Gordie are somehow managing with the distance. Allie honestly doesn’t know how, but she doesn’t press the issue._ _

__“I think mom and dad go seriously crazy when we’re both so far away,” Cassandra says. Allie smiles, laughs. “Mom said something the other day about getting a dog.”_ _

__Allie’s eyes go wide. Her mom always _refused_. “She doesn’t even like dogs!” _ _

__“She’s bored, I think,” Cassandra giggles._ _

__Allie leans back on her bed, missing her people, and asks, “Okay, but what kind of dog? I always wanted a Portuguese water dog. Like Bo.”_ _

__Cassandra smiles. “Bo is the cutest dog ever.” She adds, “Maybe when you grow up.”_ _

__Allie’s jaw drops, and she says “I’m grown up!” in a whiny, childish tone that makes them both laugh just before the connection drops and they switch to text to say their goodbyes and I love yous._ _

__… … ..._ _

__Her classes are hard as hell, and she thinks she’s being kind of a jerk to everyone. She snapped at Raegan the other day for putting the last roll of toilet paper on the holder and not buying another pack. (But honestly, that’s like, in the Don’t Be A Trash Roommate Handbook on page 1.) Maya’s listening to music in her room one night and Allie asks her to turn it the fuck down. The annoying guy who works the security desk checks her out one morning and she pins him with a look that makes him not glance her way again for days._ _

__“You need to get laid,” Raegan says around a bite of pasta. Allie rolls her eyes. She hates that shit._ _

__… … …_ _

__Okay, so Devin looks like Timothee Chalamet if Timothee Chalamet were taller and a track athlete. He’s smooth in a way that should irritate her but doesn’t, and when he asks her if she wants to ‘hang out’, she says yes._ _

__He’s okay in bed, and comes off a little eager and then doesn’t seem to know 100% what he’s doing. She says, “I’ll show you,” and he thinks that’s hot. For a guy that good looking, there’s something a little disappointing about his performance. But she thinks that’s really shallow and totally unfair._ _

__It’s her first one night stand, and she ignores him every time she sees him around on campus._ _

__She doesn’t feel less stressed._ _

__… … …_ _

__Her second one night stand happens immediately (like, hours) after learning that Simon is dating someone new. She sees them on campus, holding hands, wrapped up in each other. There’s a cross necklace sitting at the base of this girl’s throat, and Allie thinks she reminds her of Kelly, if Kelly was even prettier. Which is hard to even wrap her head around._ _

__She feels stupid for being bothered - she broke up with _him_ \- and worse for being insecure about her looks as a result of seeing this gorgeous new brunette he’s dating._ _

__She goes to a party and goes home with the first attractive guy who’s nice to her. He goes down on her with her legs draped over the side of his bed, tells her how hot she is and makes her come so hard her fingers hurt from clutching the bars of his headboard._ _

__She leaves when he’s sleeping, feels good but bad but _good_ , and stays up too late watching YouTube videos in her bed. _ _

__… … …_ _

__She doesn’t want to think she’s not happy. It isn’t a thing she wants to entertain. She’s got no reason to be dissatisfied with her life. She’s smart and talented and has friends in multiple parts of the country. But she’s also trying to punt away this feeling of loneliness and she’s really not doing a very good job of it._ _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬💙I am sorry.

She turns in a paper and does a workout, treats herself to an overpriced smoothie from this vegan place she loves, and she’s walking back to her dorm when her phone rings. It’s her dad’s cell, which is a little weird, since he’s typically not the one to call her, and when he does, it’s from her parents’ landline, because they're the kind of people who still have a landline. 

She’s chipper when she answers, because usually when her dad calls her randomly, it’s to share something funny that’ll make her smile. Or to tell her he dropped some cash into her bank account for absolutely no reason and without her asking. 

“Allie,” he says, and this tone of voice alone makes her stop walking. He takes a deep breath. “Your grandma…” Allie blows her breath out in a slow stream. She’s _terrified_ of what he’s gonna say next. “She had a stroke.”

He sounds like he’s crying. This is why she couldn’t recognize the tone. She hasn’t seen her dad cry since Cassandra’s first surgery. 

“Is she…”

He pauses, and Allie fears the worst. “You should come home. I can book you on the next flight.”

“Dad.”

“She’s in hospital. They’re saying…”

Tears slip down Allie’s cheeks. She can’t...Finals are coming up and camp starts soon and this is her last year and her grandma can’t be…

She knows that he wouldn’t be telling her to come home if her grandma wasn’t dying. She knows it. 

She feels stupid and childish for having to wait for him to send her the flight details. She wishes she knew more, had some control. Maya hugs her and Allie explains what she knows. Her friend helps her pack, and asks, carefully, gently, if Allie wants to take this black dress with her. She wants to say no, but she nods, just in case. “Just in case,” Maya repeats, smiling sadly. 

Her flight leaves in four hours, and this is the worst waiting she’s ever had to do. She emails all her professors, TAs, and Colleen as she waits. She messages Grizz and Helena. She almost wants to tell more people, but she thinks that’ll make it real, too. And if she tells them all and then her grandma recovers - _she could recover _\- she’ll have worried everyone for no reason.__

__Shit. _Cassandra_. She hasn’t been able to get a hold of her, but then when she’s in the Uber on her way to the airport, her phone rings and it’s Cassandra. She’s crying. She’s saying there are no flights ‘til tomorrow evening. She says she’s never experienced this kind of panic or fear. _ _

__After they hang up, Allie thinks way too hard about the fact that _she has_. Not only every time Cassandra’s health took a turn, but James, too. God, she will absolutely never forget being woken up with that news. _ _

__She white knuckles the armrest on takeoff. The lady next to her seems utterly disgusted, but Allie doesn’t give a shit. And some guy recognized her in the airport and asked if she was that soccer player he heard of, and she just was not in the mood to be nice to this guy trying to pick her up in a fucking airport. She _visibly_ looks like she’s been crying, and this asshole picks now to shoot his shot? God, men are the fucking worst. _ _

__Now, of course, he’s sitting across the aisle from her, watching her._ _

__Her mom and dad both pick her up from the airport. They hug her and they’re crying and she’s crying, and then when they get in the car, she sees the look that passes between them and asks them what’s going on. It’s something. They’re hiding something._ _

__Her dad turns around, his chin wobbling, and Allie braces herself._ _

__“Allie,” he just says, and she _knows_._ _

__They tell her anyway. That grandma was comfortable and not alone and went peacefully and all Allie can think is that she wasn’t _here_ and didn’t get to say goodbye. She hasn’t seen her grandma in months and now she’s _dead_ and Allie wasn’t even here. _ _

__They take her home, but she doesn’t want to be at home. She needs to see her grandpa. He’s got to be destroyed. And why is her dad being so...These are his parents. She wonders, for the first time, when the stroke happened and how long they waited to tell her._ _

__They didn’t, they promise. Her dad says he called her from the hospital when they’d assessed and knew what had happened and what the prognosis was. He said he didn’t wait. Things just happened too fast._ _

__They’re sitting in the living room, her head on her dad’s shoulder and her mom brushing her fingers through Allie’s hair._ _

__“Was grandpa with her?” she asks, and she knows the answer, but it’s important. She just...she needs to know as much as possible. She can’t stand not knowing._ _

__“Yes, honey,” her mom says, fingers tugging at a knot and then working it loose. She smiles just a tiny bit. “And Harry.”_ _

__Allie freezes, then turns her head sharply. “What?” Her mom has this sad, almost nervous expression on her face. Allie looks to her dad._ _

__“Karen saw the ambulance. She called us. He drove in…”_ _

__Allie stops listening. Her heart is beating loudly in her ears, and she’s _furious_ that he was there and she wasn’t. _ _

__… … …_ _

__She can’t sleep. She doesn’t think anyone else is, either. She could hear her parents talking in their room down the hall, and her dad let out one good sob that broke Allie’s heart and made her cry. She can’t think of anything but her grandma. They went to see her grandpa for a few hours, and he was trying to be strong and stoic or whatever, but Allie could tell it was all fake. Something about that old school, old man, masculine strength thing. He’s alone in that house right now and Allie can’t even picture it, really. She doesn’t want to think about how he’s feeling to be there without her grandma. To get into bed. To…_ _

__The other thing she can’t stop thinking about is Harry. He came, and he was there, and he was in the room when she stopped breathing. And what the fuck is that about? She has too many questions, and lying here in the dark trying to take deep breaths isn’t giving her any answers._ _

__She runs to his house. It’s stupid. It’s absolutely dumb. It’s 11:30 and she’s out of breath and her eyes feel like shit from crying. She’s wearing shorts, but it’s not really warm enough for them, and she didn’t leave a note before she left. If someone notices she’s gone, it’ll just be more worry for them, and she shouldn’t have done that._ _

__Running past her grandparents’ house makes her cry. The tulips are coming up._ _

__She did not think through what to do when she got here. Harry’s bedroom light is on, but the rest of the house is dark. Allie doesn’t want to disturb Karen or Poppy. God, she hasn’t seen Poppy in way too long. The girl’s probably getting so big._ _

__She texts Harry _Let me in_ , and she’s watching his bedroom window when he pulls the curtains back to look outside. She shifts her weight on the balls of her feet, and moments later, he’s opening the front door and looking at her with more worry and compassion than she probably deserves. _ _

__It makes her mad. He doesn’t get to be _gentle_ with her. _ _

__“Allie. I’m so…”_ _

__“What did you do?” she asks, and it doesn’t make sense and it’s way too much of an accusation. It’s not fair, probably, but no one can talk to her about fair right now. One of the people she loves and needs most in the world is dead. Harry was one of the last people to see her alive. Allie thinks that’s so fucked up and she can’t believe he’s done it. “Why were you there?”_ _

__He pulls a face like he’s offended, but then quickly recovers as if he thinks she’s just lashing out. “Come inside,” he says, gesturing to the door with his arm. It’s still open behind him. Allie’s standing 10 feet away. She likes the distance. “It’s late. You should…”_ _

__She stomps past him because the last thing her grandpa needs is his neighbours talking about his crazy granddaughter shouting at the Binghams in the middle of the night. No other reason._ _

__She goes upstairs and doesn’t realize he isn’t following until she’s in his bedroom and he’s not right behind her._ _

__It’s different in here. The plaid comforter is gone, replaced by a plain white one with navy stripes around the edges. Like a fancy hotel. All his stupid shit is gone, too. Like the ugly thing his TV used to sit on, and certificates from his high school achievements. Instead, there’s now a sleek black thing with cupboards underneath hiding whatever gaming console he has now. A painting she assumes Poppy did is framed on the wall. A new desk has replaced the one he’d carved his name into the top of when he was 11. There’s a carryon bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. There’s a black suit hanging from his closet door. There’s a picture of his dad framed on top of the desk, next to a dark green velvet thing she thinks is meant to set watches on._ _

__Harry returns with a small tray. On it, there’s a glass of water, two rocks glasses, a decanter of some brown liquor, and a bowl of trail mix. She looks at him like he’s insane. What _is_ this? _ _

__(He looks amazing, she realizes. It hits her all at once and makes her heart feel heavier. He looks grown up. His jawline more defined, muscles on his arms and shoulders that didn’t used to be there. His haircut’s less boyish, too. She tries to count how many months it’s been since she saw him. Mostly just to give herself something to do.)_ _

__She shouldn’t have come._ _

__Allie reaches for a rocks glass just for something to hang onto. She wants to ask him a lot more questions. She wants to scream at him. (She wants to be _mad_.) Harry pours for her. She’s annoyed he’s not saying anything. She notices, also, that he barely adds a splash to the bottom of the glass. _ _

__“Why are you here?” she asks again, and he lets out a breath._ _

__“I loved your grandma,” he tells her softly._ _

__She’s staring at him as he pours himself a drink, too. He looks sad. She only just sees it. His eyes are tired and his lips set in a line. She’s not going to act like he doesn’t have a right to be sad. He does. She believes that he means what he just said. She remembers what it felt like when James died. She couldn’t have known how he felt, but she was sad, too. No matter what happened between her and Harry, she knows he cared about her grandma._ _

__She starts crying, thinking he’s probably seen her grandma more on visits in the last three years than Allie has. That he probably still stopped by - just like his dad used to - to say hi and be charming and make her laugh._ _

__She registers that he’s saying her name. When he comes closer, she flinches, pulls her arm away. She sets down the glass she hasn’t taken a drink from. He sets his down, too, and then he says, “Sit down. Jesus Christ, Allie,” and sounds frantic. She sits on the bed, then he tugs her onto the floor, kneels in front of her and grabs her hands._ _

__She can’t breathe._ _

__She feels like she’s going to pass out. There’s a weight on her chest and she can’t _move_ and there’s Harry, solid in front of her, holding her hands and taking big, audible breaths and saying _something_ , but she’s not really registering it. She closes her eyes tight, tries to listen only to his voice, not her own pulse or the low humming filling her head. _ _

__He’s holding the glass of water to her lips, just after she’s opened her eyes. She doesn’t have any sense of how long it’s been. He looks fucking terrified. She doesn’t take the glass for herself, because she doesn’t want to let go of his hand, and the other one is grounding her, pressing down on the floor as hard as she can._ _

__The only thing she can think to say is, “I need to know everything.”_ _

__Harry shakes his head like he’s not _doing_ this right now. She just had the worst panic attack of her life and she gets why he doesn’t want to stress her out, but he doesn’t get it. This isn't like them as teenagers with no fucking idea how death or the emotions that follow them work. This is her as an adult knowing that there’s no way she’ll ever get over this if he doesn’t _tell her_._ _

__His hand is on her face, then, thumb gently smoothing over her cheekbone._ _

__She adds, “Please,” and wants to say he owes her, but that seems petty and unfair, and she’s still angry at him, but this isn’t his _fault_._ _

__“She was sleeping,” is what he says, and she knew that part, but stays still, listens. He searches her face as if he wants to be able to tell if this is what she wants. “Your grandpa was holding her hand and talking to her.”_ _

__Allie closes her eyes tight. “Before that. Did she say anything? She...What did she say when you showed up?”_ _

__This is stupid. Maybe it won’t change anything. Maybe he’ll just tell her what he can and she’ll still feel heartbroken and awful and like she should’ve been there. But maybe she won’t. She’s all fucked up and Harry’s just looking at her like it’s _okay_._ _

__He lets out a small breath. “She was confused. She couldn’t really talk.” Harry’s being careful with his words when he says, “She called me James.”_ _

__She can’t imagine how that must’ve felt for him. She follows her first instinct is and says, “I’m sorry,” on a breath, as if there’s anything to apologize for._ _

__Harry moves, then. Sits down next to her. He must be satisfied that she’s not going to panic again. His shoulder brushes hers. She thinks of how many times they sat like this, on the floor at the end of his bed, when they were growing up. God, the memories she has wrapped up in this man could fill a library._ _

__“I didn’t want to embarrass her. I told her she looked pretty in her gown.”_ _

__Allie lets out a watery laugh, turns her head, leaning it back on his bed. “That’s exactly what your dad would’ve said.”_ _

__She says it without thinking, then wonders if she should regret it._ _

__“I know,” Harry whispers. He smiles for the first time. Allie doesn’t bother wiping her tears. “I offered to leave, but your grandpa asked me to stay.” She’s surprised by that, but she doesn’t doubt that he’s being honest with her. “I held her hand. Her heart rate started to slow down. I…”_ _

__Allie watches him. He looks down. She thinks he’s crying and doesn’t want her to see. She asks, “What?”_ _

__“I told her you were on the way.” Allie lets her hand fall to his thigh without thinking, and he takes her hand in his, and she honestly wonders why they were ever so awful to each other._ _

__(Really, she wonders how they could’ve been so awful to each other, and yet there’s this, too. He did this for her. She thinks so, anyway. A little for him, but a lot for her.)_ _

__“She didn’t like, respond or anything,” he says, and Allie hates that she’s selfish enough to be sad about it. He turns his head. She can see the tears on his face just beneath his eyes. “She wasn’t in pain.” Allie nods. She’s surprised by how exhausted she is all of a sudden. How much she feels like she can’t move. How she thinks she could stay here with him as long as he’ll let her. “I’m so sorry.” She just nods, but then he goes ahead and says the thing that maybe she’s been feeling since she got the call this morning. “No, I know...I know how important she was to you. Especially when we were younger.”_ _

__He’s the first person who’s said out loud that Allie maybe has a right to feel this a little harder than someone else._ _

__Allie lets out a sob, covers her mouth with her hand, and then Harry’s moving, turning, wrapping his arms around her and holding her. She thinks he doesn’t mean for his lips to be pressed against her skin like this. She wonders if he knows how much she needs this. God, he probably does. He has to. And she wants to be mad at herself for coming here and feeling _better_ when all she wanted was to be mad and yell at him and ask him how _dare_ he. But now she just...She’s so _tired_. She’s tired of being mad, and acting like she doesn’t know him, like he doesn’t know her. _ _

__She’s tired of _missing him_. She can’t do that and feel everything else, too. _ _

__After a few minutes, he passes her back the glass, says, “Drink this,” like he knows she needs to calm her nerves, or something. It’s a bad method, but she does what he says. When he takes the glass from her, he’s reaching for her with the other hand, pulling her up, and then tugging back the duvet._ _

__She falls asleep with Harry’s hand in hers, and wakes up to him speaking quietly, standing next to the bed. Daylight has barely broken, but he says, “Hey, she’s here,” and she thinks he’s calling her parents so they don’t worry. “She’s…” He’s turning, so she pretends to be asleep. “Yeah. Exactly.” She wonders what’s been said. “No, I’ve got her. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Is he talking to her mom, or her dad? “It’s no problem.”_ _

__Allie tries not to start crying at how heavily he said he’s _got her_. _ _

__He gets back into bed, presses his chest against her back, and sets his hand on her hip over the duvet. She falls back to sleep listening to his breathing, trying to make her own match it._ _

__… … …_ _

__Karen doesn’t bat a lash when Allie and Harry walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. Allie’s wearing a sweater that’s too big for her, the sleeves pushed up a little. It says Princeton across the front._ _

__She accepts the hug Karen gives, and then shakes her head when Karen asks if she’s in a rush. She insists Allie stay for some food._ _

__Allie thinks she loves the woman for just making some plain oatmeal and cut fruit. She’s not sure she can stomach anything else._ _

__Harry makes Allie a cappuccino and she smiles when Poppy comes downstairs in her pajamas and lights up when she sees who’s here. She’s so much taller. Her hair’s down over her shoulder in waves. It reminds Allie of her own hair, just a much darker shade. Before Poppy hugs her, Allie sees the moment the girl remembers they’re supposed to be sad. That they are sad._ _

__“When does Cassandra get in?” Karen asks as Allie pushes her food around in her bowl. Karen had insisted on toast, too, in that way moms do that makes you feel like there’s no use arguing. Allie let Poppy pick the jam for her toast. The girl has school today, and Allie’s wondering how the morning routine usually works here. There’s got to be a ‘normal’ and she’s got to imagine this isn’t it._ _

__“Tomorrow,” Allie says, and god, she feels so awful for Cassandra. The time difference and the flight patterns and the cost of getting home. If Allie feels this shitty, she can only imagine what Cassandra’s feeling right now, dealing with all this entirely on her own and halfway across the world. “The only seat yesterday was like three thousand euros, or something.” Karen nods politely, and the quiet is killing Allie, so she blurts out, “Thank you,” and Harry glances up, just barely, from his plate. He was difficult and wanted over easy eggs. Laughing, Karen had told him to make them himself, and he’d grinned and hip checked her out of the way. He’s only just sat down and everyone else is almost done._ _

__“Honey,” Karen says, reaching for Allie’s hand over the table. “You’ve always been welcome.” Allie nods, knowing it’s true. The same thing has been said to her before. She’s not looking at Harry. He might disagree. Or he might not. Allie doesn’t honestly think she wants to know which. (Both would make her feel badly for different reasons.) “When James…” She stops, glances at Harry, who’s swiping toast through his egg yolk, very much avoiding looking up from his food. “Harry needed you then. I’m glad you have him now.”_ _

__Allie doesn’t say anything. She nibbles a corner of toast and lets the heat of her cappuccino warm the palm of her hand._ _

__After a beat too long, she says, “This is really good jam. Rich people and their fancy jams.”_ _

__Harry laughs for the first time today. Allie thinks the sound alone makes her feel better._ _

__… … …_ _

__Harry walks her home sometime around 2:00. She wasn’t ready to leave any earlier. She’d texted her parents, who’d said they were going to sit with grandpa and start on ‘arrangements’. But she can barely stand the thought of seeing her grandparents’ house in daylight, if she’s being honest. The thought of sitting there and deciding which casket to bury her grandma in while her flowers bloom outside is just..._ _

__He says they can drive, but she shakes her head._ _

__“Let’s cut through the park,” she tells him. She’s sitting on his unmade bed, feet on the floor and hands on the mattress next to her. Harry’s wearing a black v neck and jeans, a pair of ridiculously white sneakers on his feet. He reaches for a pullover and she legitimately thinks he looks like he’s stepping out of a catalogue._ _

__He catches her staring but doesn’t say anything._ _

__She wraps her arms around her body and he has his hands in his pockets as they walk. It’s sunny out, but there’s a chill in the air. Allie loves this weather. It doesn’t really do this in Florida. Not the same way._ _

__“I heard about Elizabeth,” she says, then holds her breath and hopes she’s not ruining it._ _

__“We broke up like...a while ago.”_ _

__Allie presses her nails into her palm, unfolds her arms. “Me and Simon, too.” Harry just nods like maybe he knew that, then looks down and reaches for her hand._ _

__“You’ve been doing this since you were a kid,” he tells her, pries her fist open and then lets go. He’s right. It’s one of her messed up coping mechanisms. She didn’t think anyone else had ever noticed. They turn into the park. The willow is just starting to turn green. “Look, are you…” She glances at him. He takes a breath as though he’s not sure how whatever he’s going to say will go over. “Last night was messed up. I’ve never seen you like that.”_ _

__She hates her first thought, which is that he hasn’t seen her in a while, period. It feels like a fight and she doesn’t want to fight._ _

__“I was...It was a lot.”_ _

__“Yeah. Sure.” He pauses. “But you scared the shit out of me.”_ _

__She bites her bottom lip, counts a few steps, and then says, “I’m sorry,” and thinks she means she’s sorry for showing up unannounced, and yelling at him, and having a panic attack that scared even him._ _

__He asks, “Are you gonna be okay?” in such a way that makes her breath stutter and she wants to say she doesn’t know._ _

__Honestly, she was feeling pretty awful before getting that call. Like something was off. Something was missing. Something needed improving. Maybe, actually, what she was feeling was that she needed to be _better_ , but not knowing how to actually do that when she was already putting so much effort into everything. _ _

__She says, “I don’t know,” because it seems the truest answer, and Harry sighs like he’s not satisfied, but maybe understands._ _

__She doesn’t so much invite him in as he just walks into the house behind her, slips his shoes off by the door. Her mom and dad are puttering in the kitchen. Literally. They’re cleaning out cupboards. It smells like Mr. Clean and there’s shit piled everywhere. Her mom gives her a look like _don’t ask_ , and Allie just goes to hug her parents. _ _

__She stands back, tucks her hair behind her ears as Harry embraces each of her parents, too. He gives condolences and they thank him for coming. They thank him for taking care of Allie. They thank him for getting her home. They thank him for staying with her grandma and grandpa yesterday._ _

__Allie wants to shower and go upstairs and not be part of this weird ‘cleaning as distraction’ thing they’ve got going on._ _

__Harry walks up the stairs behind her. He’s grinning when he walks into her room and she knows exactly why. It’s 100% the same as it has been every time he’s been in here since she was about 14. She notices a new framed photo - one of her with her teammates from this past season. Her mom keeps doing that, adding things like that to this room, fitting them on the walls or shelves so they’re just barely noticeable. Allie doesn’t stop her._ _

__She feels foolish, for some reason. His room has changed so much. But then again, she’s never here and she gets the sense he is._ _

__“Will you stay?” she asks, and he crosses his arms, leans against the door frame, and watches her pull his sweatshirt off and fold it on the end of her bed._ _

__“I can if you want.” He’s being too careful with her. She doesn’t deserve it. She just nods, and he says, “Okay,” and then walks further into the room._ _

__She’s not shy or delicate when she takes a pair of underwear and her navy bra out of her suitcase. She grabs a pair of jeans, too, and her favourite burgundy sweater. Harry’s watching her. There’s something in his eyes that she decides she really likes, even if she doesn’t know what it is._ _

__When she comes back into the room, drying her hair with a towel, her face clean and free of any of yesterday’s makeup that managed to cling to her skin, Harry’s lying back on her bed, leaning up on one elbow, and Allie thinks she’s seen this exact thing a hundred times before. It makes her smile._ _

__“Update: your parents are debating whether to move the platters to the hutch in the dining room. It’s been intense.”_ _

__Allie laughs without really wanting to. “Let me guess. Dad’s pro change, because he’s going through a major life event, and mom wants him to leave her shit alone.”_ _

__Harry grins. “Basically.”_ _

__“Should we save them from each other?” Harry shrugs, moves a bit on the bed to give her room. It’s annoyingly inviting, and she joins him, tucking one leg under her. God, two years ago she would’ve made a joke about how he just wants her for himself. “Movie?”_ _

__“I don’t need entertaining,” he says, sounding grown up and smart and _wise_ , which is irritating. “We can just talk.”_ _

__She runs her finger over a wrinkle on her bedspread, refusing to look at him. “I’m afraid if I start talking, I’ll start crying again and I won’t be able to stop.”_ _

__Harry’s smiling softly when she looks back up at him. He clasps his hands behind his head and asks, “Then I’ll talk. What do you want to know?”_ _

__Allie thinks she could kiss him._ _

__But also, “Any chance to go on and on about how great you are, right?” Harry laughs, which almost surprises her, shrugs a shoulder. Allie moves so she’s lying on her stomach, legs bent, face closer to his, and asks him about law school._ _

__He’s going to Yale next year, and is probably gonna live at home, he says. She wants to tease him for it, but he says something about how Poppy’s been a bit of a shit lately and he thinks she’s better when he’s around. He just wants to get her to middle school without being a fucking brat (he ignores Allie’s _’Like you were’_ and continues as if he hasn’t heard her, though something like amusement sparkles in his eye indicating he definitely has), plus it’s a short commute and easier for everyone. She asks him why Yale. She asks him if he knows what kind of lawyer he wants to be. She asks him if he’s got internships in mind. He asks her if she’s channeling her sister with this line of questioning._ _

__His questions are sort of the same, and she realizes he knows the highlights of her life just like she knows the highlights of his. He says he thinks she’ll be a great teacher, and that kids have always loved her. He says something about being surprised it took her so long to coach a kids team._ _

__He asks if she’s dating anyone. She throws the same question back at him. Their answers are the same._ _

__Her parents call them for dinner, like it’s just a given he’s staying. Allie didn’t even realize they’d spent like four hours talking. It feels...It feels all at once completely comfortable and also super unsettling that it feels like they’re just reconnecting. Like they’ve just got catching up to do and what happened to make them lose one another isn’t as important. She doesn’t think she actually agrees with that, but she likes this too much to want to ruin it by saying anything. She honestly doesn’t think she can handle that and losing her grandma._ _

__There’re two pizza boxes on the counter from Allie’s favourite place. They stand, the four of them, around the kitchen island as they eat. Her dad opens a beer and Allie’s mom pours them each a glass of white wine. Harry’s joking - she thinks - when he asks if they have any scotch. He’s laughing when her dad throws a beer can at his chest, and Harry scratches the bottom before opening it._ _

__Allie’s mom catches her eye across the counter when Harry says something about watching one of her games with Poppy this past fall._ _

__Allie ignores it as much as she can._ _

__(She doesn’t need her mom’s not at all subtle glances to make her feel as good as she does about him. She’s mad at herself and Harry both for how easy they’re making this.)_ _

__… … …_ _

__She doesn’t get out of bed the next day. Not really. She can’t stop crying - again - and she talks to her grandpa when he comes over. Her dad went to get him. Allie knows she’s making it harder for everyone else, but she’s counting the things in her regret basket, and realizes that not visiting more often is eating away at her. Her grandpa sits on the edge of her bed, holds her hand, and she asks him how he’s being so strong. His lip falters like he wants to say he’s not. Selfishly, she’s glad he doesn’t cry. It would destroy her._ _

__Harry texts her asking how she’s doing today. She says she’s fine and doesn’t know why she’s lying._ _

__Cassandra gets in late, and Allie runs down the stairs to meet her at the door. She couldn’t bring herself to get ready to go to the airport, so she stayed back with her mom, who brought her a grilled cheese and stayed with her until she ate._ _

__She and Cassandra are as bad as each other, bursting into tears on sight._ _

__They sleep in the same bed that night, like they used to sometimes when Cassandra was sick and Allie was scared. They’re holding hands, palms pressed together, over the duvet in Cassandra’s room._ _

__“Mom said Harry was…” Allie takes a breath. She can feel Cassandra staring at her in the dark. “I’m glad you had someone.” Allie still doesn’t respond. She doesn’t _have_ Harry. She doesn’t know what yesterday was. She just knows she needed something from him and he didn’t bail. It means something and she doesn’t have the emotional capacity to figure out what it is. “Gordie will be here tomorrow for the funeral.”_ _

__Allie sniffs at mention of the word. Cassandra leans closer, turns so she can cuddle Allie._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Allie says weakly, not knowing what she’s apologizing for._ _

__“No, I know…” Her voice gets tight. “I know this has to be different for you.”_ _

__Allie doesn’t even argue it. She just nods her head and closes her eyes, and she thinks she falls asleep thinking about Harry, but she can’t be sure._ _

__… … …_ _

__Allie knows it’s messed up to think about how many people have shown up to the visitation and how many of them could actually say they knew her grandma. She manages to keep it together as they stand in this weird line and receive condolences from a bunch of people Allie’s literally never met. She sees Harry walk in with his mom. He’s wearing a black suit with a tie and his mom’s in black pants and a blazer. Allie tries to focus on the people who stop to talk to her and not how slowly the line is moving and how badly she wants Harry right in front of her._ _

__Cassandra’s first. Harry actually hugs her, says he’s sorry for her loss. He’s being genuine and nice and Cassandra thanks him, meaning it, and puts her hand on his arm. Allie realizes that Cassandra is pushing him towards her._ _

__The way he wraps his arms around her makes her feel safe and comforted and… She’s never seen him hug anyone else like this. He doesn’t even say anything. He just lingers, his arms tight around her shoulders, head bent so it’s against hers._ _

__When he moves on, she watches him go to shake Gordie’s hand and say hi. Karen hugs her, tells her again how sorry she is._ _

__Allie starts crying during the reading. It’s a poem about a lush garden filled with sunlight and flowers. There’s a metaphor about the winds of change, and time, and love._ _

__She doesn’t realize Harry is right behind her until his hand goes to her shoulder and she turns to see him there, looking soft and kind. He hands her a cloth handkerchief, too, and Cassandra looks at her when she laughs. Sorry, but like, of _course_ he’s got one of these. Of course. She uses it to dab her eyes. Harry’s hand doesn’t move. _ _

__He’s there at the cemetery, too. Allie’s holding her dad’s hand tight and she can see Harry and Karen across from her. She remembers his dad’s funeral. God, this is so fucking sad._ _

__The last thing she wants to do is go to this stupid like, what, cocktail hour? Why do people do this? She remembers being a teenager and thinking this is the most awful thing to ask a grieving family to do. People pile into her grandparents’ house and eat shitty warmed over food and some punch that’s too sweet. Allie wants more of the drink Harry gave her the other night. She’s talking to a woman she remembers from her summer living here. She struggles to remember the lady’s name, but she was in the horticulture club with her grandma. She tells stories about how proud Allie’s grandma was that she took an interest in helping with her flowers. She says they all thought it was so sweet that Allie got all this time with her grandmother. She says that all the other grandmothers were jealous of it, their own grandkids, in some cases, spread all over the country._ _

__At one point, she, Cassandra and Gordie slip out into the backyard. Gordie has his arm around Cassandra, and Allie sits at one of the chairs around the glass table, white knuckles the arms of it because she realized she was doing that thing with her fingernails and Harry’s voice was in her ear._ _

__“Harry’s surprisingly okay,” Gordie says, and Allie laughs a little, looks at a wrinkle in the skirt of her dress from it being packed away in her suitcase._ _

__“Speak of the devil,” Cassandra says. Allie looks up and Harry’s there, walking out the back door with his suit jacket open and one hand in his pocket. Allie feels a little flush thinking of how good he looks._ _

__“Finally found the cool kids’ table,” Harry says, grinning, and sits down next to Allie. “There’re a lot of old people in that house right now.”_ _

__Allie laughs loudly, unexpectedly. Cassandra looks at her like she’s surprised by the sound, but then smiles, too. She shares a look with Gordie, and Allie wonders how long you have to be together before you have your own secret language like that._ _

__“My place is empty,” he says to the group. Allie wants to leave, so if he’s about to make an offer, she’s out of here. He shrugs when Cassandra looks conflicted. “There’s alcohol.”_ _

__Allie looks at her sister pleadingly. Not that she needs Cassandra’s permission, but she also doesn’t want her judgment. Cassandra blinks slowly, probably already knowing Allie’s going to go._ _

__“Food?” Allie asks, brow raised like she’s challenging him._ _

__“You mean the weird casserole buffet in there isn’t appealing to you?”_ _

__Cassandra smiles, considers this, and then says, “Why don’t we get the alcohol and take it to our place? That way we’ll already be home and mom and dad can never hold it over our heads that we ditched our grandmother’s funeral to get drunk.”_ _

__Allie thinks they absolutely can hold it over their heads, and that it doesn’t matter if they’re at Harry’s or home, but she just wants to get out of here. Whatever Cassandra has to do to feel good about it, she can work with._ _

__Harry tells them to grab whatever they want from the bar. He reaches for an unopened bottle of scotch, and Cassandra takes some gin. Gordie looks like he doesn’t know what to do, and admits he’s never really been ‘stocked bar’ kind of people. Allie realizes she only is by extension of Harry’s house, but it’s not as unfamiliar to her. She thinks she wants champagne. Harry rolls his eyes like he almost expected it. He presses the scotch into her hand and says he’ll be right back, heads towards the wine cellar._ _

__The four of them walk, carrying bottles, through the park in the middle of the day. They’re dressed in all black and Allie wonders what people think when they see them._ _

__Harry takes off his jacket and tie when they get to their house, unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and pushes his sleeves up._ _

__“Okay, Cocktail,” Allie teases, rolling her eyes and getting onto a stool at the counter where he’s setting out to pour them each a drink._ _

__“Better Cocktail than Risky Business,” Cassandra mumbles, and Harry asks, “Better for who?”_ _

__He catches Allie’s eye and she blushes. God, he needs to _stop_._ _

__He passes Gordie a scotch on the rocks. He mixes Cassandra a gin martini. He pours Allie a glass of champagne. Once he’s got his own glass filled, he holds it up and has a tiny, little smile on his lips._ _

__“I don’t know what to say,” he admits, then, “She was the best.”_ _

__Allie feels her eyes soften. She takes a breath. She doesn’t have anything to add. They clink their glasses together and Gordie makes a comment about honouring older people by taking advantage of their youth. Allie thinks there’s actually something really nice about that._ _

__She also sees the way Cassandra and Gordie keep looking at each other, and she realizes they haven’t even seen each other in ages, and Cassandra was literally in another part of the world, and she thinks they probably could do with some time alone. Allie thinks of how she had a chance to have her breakdown and whatever in front of Harry, and wonders if Cassandra’s maybe been holding it in until she had her support. Maybe it’s not true - Cassandra’s better able to regulate her emotions than Allie is and always has been. But Allie wants to give them space anyway._ _

__After they’re finished eating the Chinese food they ordered and Harry paid for, Allie has him top up their glasses. She feels like he won’t mind that she takes his hand, so that’s what she does. She leads him upstairs to her bedroom and closes the door. He might look like he’s playing it cool, sipping his drink that way, but she knows him better than that._ _

__She really wants to get out of this dress. She should've thought that through before bringing him in here and shutting the door._ _

__“Can you unzip my dress, then immediately turn around?” He freezes a moment, then, _god_ , she knows so well the look that crosses his face. He wants to say something suggestive. He doesn’t, though, just sets down his drink and walks towards her. Allie turns, moves her hair off her back. _ _

__Once the zipper is lowered, she looks over her shoulder to make sure she’s not about to do something stupid like strip in front of him. (Well, she is, but not with him _watching_.) She reaches for her jeans and a white v-neck tee shirt and pulls them on as quickly as she can. Harry’s looking at his phone and she gets onto her bed. He joins her without her having to ask, leans back against her pillows and crosses his legs at the ankles. _ _

__“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks quietly, and feels stupid for it. She thinks she absolutely does not have the emotional capacity today to talk about _them_ the way she’s been knowing they should since the other night. And it’s really unfair to him if she asks something like this, then doesn’t want to keep talking. _ _

__“Allie,” he says, like he’s at least a little offended she’d say something like that. “Your grandma just died.”_ _

__She laughs, which is a messed up reaction, she realizes. “No, I know. You’re not a monster.” He chuckles then, too, and she crosses her legs, turns so she’s facing him more, her knees brushing against him._ _

__She doesn’t want to ask again. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it._ _

__He takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s just realizing at this moment that yes, they’re doing this now._ _

__“I never wanted to not be friends,” he admits. Allie stares at him. Is it that simple? “That’s not...I’m not blaming you. It’s just easy to show up, I guess.”_ _

__She asks, “Were you mad at me?” knowing she’s not really prepared to hear the answer she knows is true. Harry just nods instead of saying it out loud. And this is stupid. She knew this part. They’ve sort of half addressed it. Tried. “Let’s talk about it.”_ _

__He sighs. He’s hesitant. She is too, if she’s being honest. She doesn’t want them to fight again. She’s afraid if they start talking about the things they should talk about, they’re going to end up going their separate ways again. She wouldn’t be surprised, but she would be sad. She thinks, really, she’d be disappointed if they could be like this with each other - because she 100% knows she would’ve done the same for him as he’s done for her the past few days - and then just…blow up again._ _

__She says, “I really missed you,” to try and convince him. She sees the little smile on his face that he’s definitely trying to hide behind his glass._ _

__“So what was our problem?” he asks, trying to sound teasing, but she knows it’s a little serious, too. If they both wanted their friendship, and they’ve both been missing one another, how did they get here? “I get that you were pissed I wasn’t very communicative.”_ _

__Allie bites her lip. That seems like a bit of a reductive way to say it, but it’s more or less true. He assumed she’d just be waiting for him, and that bothered her. Because she’d always been there when he’d wanted previously. Maybe she didn’t like that her own actions had led him to believe she’d just always be sitting around when he was ready to pay attention._ _

__“You made me feel like you were more important than me.” He furrows his brow. But she also thinks this isn’t fair, either, because this feeling came _after_ she started an entire relationship with someone else. “I think I just thought you didn’t want to be with me, so when we slept together it was like…” _ _

__He asks, “What?” and she cuts him a look for being impatient. He grins. She likes that._ _

__“It felt, for me, like just this thing we’d always danced around but hadn’t done. Like, the last thing.” Harry thinks about this, then nods his head. She feels like she’s doing all the talking._ _

__“I think it made me realize a bunch of stuff,” he admits, super quietly, and Allie’s heart races. She looks at him and he’s watching her. She wants her drink, leans across him to get it. He takes a breath when she’s sort of over him, but then she sits back down._ _

__She doesn’t ask him what stuff he realized. Maybe they’ll save that for another conversation._ _

__“I wish you’d told me.”_ _

__He laughs softly through his nose. “Me too,” he admits. He looks down, swirls the liquid in his glass._ _

__“Hey.” He glances at her and she’s smiling. “Look at us.” He chuckles. God, he looks good. “Look at the maturity.”_ _

__“Growth,” he adds, and Allie nods, wanting to kiss him. It’s driving her crazy how badly she wants him so quickly after reconnecting. He reaches over, runs the tip of his finger over the scar at the edge of her knee. It’s from last season, when she was sliding for the ball and a girl’s cleats caught her. He’s never seen it before. “What now?” Allie licks her lips by accident. Harry tilts his head like he wants it, too, but they shouldn’t. He’s right. It’s too fast. It’s too much. They can’t just… “Why’d you and Simon break up?”_ _

__Allie knows she’s exaggerating when she says, “He wanted to marry me. Why’d you and Elizabeth break up.”_ _

__He’s laughing, which is kind of a dick move, when he says, “I could never fucking marry her.” Allie swats at his arm and he catches her hand, holds it. “Seriously? Did he ask you?”_ _

__“No, but…” She doesn’t want to get into the whole thing. “It freaked me out. I’m too young.”_ _

__“No shit,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t take it as an insult. She moves again, so she’s against him, her head leaning on his shoulder and his arm around her. “I lied the other day when you asked why I came and I said it was because I loved your grandma.” Allie’s breath catches. She looks up at him. “I mean, I did. I do. But…” God, it’s insane how badly she wants him to say it. “I came for you.”_ _

__Allie’s eyes slip closed, and she thinks she could kiss him now, or he could kiss her, and that would be fine. They’d be fine._ _

__Instead, she says, “Thanks for telling me,” and Harry’s lips brush her temple, and she sips her drink and lets herself enjoy how content she feels with him like this._ _

__And it sort of knocks into her, that this must be a pretty strong thing if she can feel it even through her grief._ _

__She reaches up for his hand. He lets her take it. She lets herself love that, too._ _

__… … …_ _

__She asks if he’ll meet her for brunch, and he says he’ll swing by and pick her up. After making fun of him for using that phrase, she chews her thumbnail and Cassandra asks her what she’s so worried about. She says she’s worried about meeting Harry and Cassandra laughs at her._ _

__“My god, seeing you with him has been one of the only things these past few days that’s made any sense.”_ _

__Allie feels the same. She’s trying not to be scared of what it means that other people have that as a barometer, too. What does that say about them? Her mom mentions it, too, when Harry comes to the door. God, couldn’t he have just stayed in the car? But her mom says to her before she opens the door, “I’m happy you two are…” and doesn’t finish the thought but Allie nods anyway. She’s happy they’re...too._ _

__Harry’s a better driver than he was when they were teenagers. It shouldn’t surprise her, but she finds herself noting it anyway. She likes it. It’s sexy. She doesn’t tell him that part. She thinks the satisfied grin on his lips means he’s picked up on it anyway._ _

__Once they’re seated and he orders himself a coffee and she asks for a cappuccino, Allie realizes she doesn't know what to say to him. Like, at all. They’re in public, and all their conversations these past few days have been very, very private. She knows that if they’re going to continue to be friends, or...God, who’s she kidding? This very much does not feel like the start of a _friendship_. It feels like the start of something else. But either way, whatever this is the start of, it’s going to require a lot more big discussions, and this hipster little brunch spot she picked because she came here once with Grizz and the potatoes were good...This isn’t the place for deep discussions._ _

__Harry’s looking at her from across the table like he can tell what she’s thinking, that she’s anxious, and then he just...He pushes his foot up against hers under the table, says, “Take a deep breath,” and she does. Because that’s not at all what she was expecting him to say, and he just keeps reminding her that he’s _grown up_ so much since they last spent any time together. _ _

__“You’re making me nervous.”_ _

__He smiles, but she determines it’s at least a little fake. Like, his brows come together like he doesn’t understand why that’d be the case. But god, they made such a mess of things, and now they’re here. Sipping coffee and looking at a brunch menu like nothing happened. God, but that’s not even what they’re doing, is it? They’re just...They’re starting again, but they’re not starting over. Maybe that won’t make sense if she says it out loud. She worries it won’t._ _

__“What am I doing to make you nervous?”_ _

__“I dunno,” she says, and then smiles, and he grins at her like he likes the look of it. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, likes the way he tracks the movement, too. “You’re just sitting there looking cute, and…”_ _

__Okay, he leans forward, elbows on the table, and clasps his hands. He’s practically smirking._ _

__“You think I’m cute?”_ _

__Allie tilts her head, shakes it a little as she smiles and then scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip._ _

__She leans forward, too, and they’re close, just the stupid table and their mugs between them, and says, “Harry.” He hums, which makes her feel...A lot, frankly. He’s looking at her lips, which he just absolutely must stop. “I’ve always thought you were cute.”_ _

__He reaches up, takes one of her curls between his fingers, and looks between it and her face. “Okay.”_ _

__It makes her smile, lean back in her seat. He lets go of her hair and then drops his hand, continuing to just _look_ at her like that. Their server comes, and Allie orders the same thing she got last time, and Harry orders biscuits and gravy and promises to share. _ _

__When they’re alone again, she feels daring enough to ask, “What about me?”_ _

__He volleys back, “What _about_ you?”_ _

__Ugh. He’s awful. He _knows_. He’s just teasing her. Pestering her. Wants her to say things out loud. Which, god, maybe that’s how they got here, right? Not just _saying things_. And she thinks back on every time in her life that she’s just been honest with him, and the rush she’s gotten after just finally speaking the words. Maybe they’re just flirting right now, which is potentially stupid. But it feels good, and it feels _big_ , and she doesn’t want to stop until and unless it stops making her feel the way it is right now. Because right now her head is clouded in the best way with potential, and happiness, and fun. _ _

__“What do you think of me?” feels like a loaded question, but it’s what she asks. Harry lets out a little snort and then sips his coffee, his eyes looking anywhere but at her._ _

__“A lot of things. Too many things.”_ _

___Oh_._ _

__She just looks at him a moment, thinking he looks very handsome and sweet when he appears this bashful. When she doesn’t say anything, he looks up, sees her staring and lets out a small laugh, almost rolls his eyes._ _

__Allie wraps her hands around her mug and says, “Let’s make a list,” and grins when he laughs._ _

__Then he slides his index finger over hers, until he’s gently holding her wrist and she takes her hand off her mug so they’re sort of just holding hands over the table._ _

__“Allie,” he says quietly, and he’s just looking at their hands. She can feel his pinky ring against her skin, the metal warm against her knuckle. “We’re gonna keep talking, right?”_ _

__It makes her entirely too happy that he’s said it, that he’s being direct, that he’s naming what he wants. What she thinks he wants._ _

__She says, “I want to,” because it’s the truth, and then he’s smiling down at their hands, stroking his thumb against her skin. “Definitely.”_ _

__She also really doesn’t want him to think she’s only doing this because he’s being so nice to her. She doesn’t think he’d feel that way - god, if she’d just needed someone to get her through some of her grief, she would’ve left his house alone that first morning, not fallen back to sleep with him, and then...done everything they’ve done since then. Yes, he’s been a bit of a rock for her, but she knows that’s not because she asked him to. If he hadn’t wanted to, he wouldn’t have done it. And, she thinks, if she’d asked him to stop, he would have. Grudgingly, but he would’ve. And they’d have gone back to the way things have been for the last...god, almost two years. She doesn’t want to go back to that. It seems stupid. It seems childish._ _

__After their food has arrived and he’s let go of her hand and she’s watched him drop his napkin onto his lap and sip his coffee again, she just…_ _

__“I missed you. This.”_ _

__He stops, looks up at her from under his lashes, then smiles like he’s glad to hear her say it. And maybe she didn’t realize it until coming back here. Or maybe she knew it, somewhere in the back of her mind, but was in such deep denial because of how hurt she was. But that doesn’t matter, does it? It feels like it doesn’t matter. Not when she thinks they have the ability to talk about things now that they just couldn’t before. She knows they have to keep doing that; they can’t just have one conversation about the way they left things and think that resolves everything. But this feels…_ _

__The way he’s showed up for her, the way he’s _stayed_ , and the way he’s been talking to her, interacting with her...It feels like they’re on the edge of something, and yeah, she’s felt this way before, too, but she thinks finally they’re both there together. Neither of them is ahead of the other and waiting. It feels really important that none of this feels confusing now. _ _

__For a second, she thinks he’s going to make a joke, but then he just says, quietly, “Allie,” like he wants to tell her _of course_ he missed her, too._ _

__She takes a deep breath, which makes him laugh, and then reaches for her knife and fork and tries to focus on her food and not whatever this is. Just for a little._ _

__… … …_ _

__He kisses her gently on the lips when she stops by his place to say goodbye._ _

__When she pulls back, after, to look at him, he seems shy, or bashful. Or maybe hopeful? Whatever it is, he looks so good, so attractive, and she thinks she feels that way because that kiss wasn’t a goodbye or an end of something. It feels like he really meant it to be something else._ _

__She thinks about it the entire way to the airport. And then half the flight back to Florida. And then texts him when she gets in - he’d asked her to - and ignores the part where she feels like, really good that they’re talking again. That they’re something, _any_ thing. _ _

__What’s really throwing her is that she feels better now, knowing all that, than she did before seeing him again and not talking. She’s not saying that the lack of Harry Bingham in her life was making her miserable, or something like that. She’s saying that reconnecting with him has made her happy. That’s a very big distinction she wants to make._ _

__… … …_ _

__She calls Karen when her grandpa tells her that the Binghams have hired their gardener to come over and tend to the flowers. Allie’s so touched by this generosity that she dials Karen right away to thank her._ _

__“My pleasure, Allie,” Karen says sincerely, and then, “but it wasn’t my idea.”_ _

__She doesn't know what to say to that, really. So what she says is, “Then I guess I owe him a call, too.”_ _

__Harry acts like it’s not a big deal. Like anyone would do this for her grandpa - for _her_. She doesn’t push him on it because she’s scared he’ll tell her he’s just a good person and it’s not about her at all. _ _

__(If he did, she knows it’d be a lie. But she won’t risk him saying the words out loud.)_ _

__… … …_ _

__She talks to Grizz, who she’s been in touch with every day, almost, since her grandma passed. She thinks he’s been one of her best friends since she was 14 or something, but he’s really proving it now. All her friends are great, but Grizz is...Grizz is special, and she does her best to tell him as often as she can without him being annoyed._ _

__“I have a secret,” she tells him, and he says, “I’m listening.”_ _

__She tells him about Harry, about her and Harry, about how he was absolutely the main thing that got her through her grandma’s death - is still getting her though it - and Grizz says he’s not surprised by that at all. She thinks that’s maybe honestly what she’s been feeling, too._ _

__“He kissed me,” she says._ _

__Grizz replies, “Of course he did,” with a laugh, and she doesn’t know what he means. When she asks, he just says, “Allie.”_ _

__She wonders if Harry’s talked to him, too. She wouldn’t be surprised. She knows Grizz won’t betray Harry’s trust. She loves that about him._ _

__… … …_ _

__Her grandpa mails her a bunch of pictures and items he found in a box in the hall closet. There’s a tee shirt with the name of her first competitive team on it. There’s a friendship bracelet she and her grandma made together that one summer. There’s a book on gardening with kids that brings tears to her eyes._ _

__And there are so many pictures of her and Harry as kids and then teenagers. Poppy is in some of them. They’re being young and foolish and careless and most of the time totally unaware the camera is even on them. There’s one when they’re maybe 13 and 14 and Harry’s arm is around her, and her face is all scrunched up and she’s holding a purple popsicle. He’s looking at her and smiling. There’s another from when she’s a little younger. It’s her in the yard with leaves casting shadows on her face. Allie doesn’t remember it. She flips the photo over, and sees, in her grandma’s writing, _Harry borrowed the camera to take this one_ with the year and Allie’s name and age. _ _

__When they’re FaceTiming later, she holds up the photos one by one, showing him these snapshots of their childhood._ _

__When she holds up the last one, the one he took, he grins a little like he’s almost embarrassed or something._ _

__“Anything to say for yourself, Bingham?”_ _

__He smiles, shakes his head, but talks anyway. “I thought you were pretty. Your hair all over the place, and the sun like that.”_ _

__Allie rolls her eyes. “There’s no way you actually remember this.”_ _

__“I do,” he says, and then adds, “Your grandma said she was gonna write on the back that I took it.”_ _

__Allie feels a lump in her throat, but she’s smiling. She flips the picture over to show him. He smiles, like he’s won, or something, but doesn’t say anything. Neither of them do, for at least a few moments._ _

__“God, could you be more obsessed with me?” she asks. Harry laughs, head tipped back on the screen, and she just wishes she could kiss him._ _


	10. Chapter 10

Right before camp, she’s running on the track because, frankly, it’s too hot to be out in the world and far from a shower. This way, she can do her run and then head to the locker room immediately. She’s enjoying those few days between end of term and start of training, when she can sleep in and hang out with her friends and, yes, eat a bunch of junk food for the last time before the season.

When she’s done, and checking her stats on the Fitbit app on her phone, drinking Gatorade and standing in the sun, this guy walks up to her. He’s hot - brown skin glistening with sweat and a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He’s, like, _really_ attractive. 

God, what is it with her and athletes? 

He hits on her. Nicely. Actually, she thinks he’s super smooth and knows it. It’s probably the most respectful yet hot way she’s ever been approached by a guy.

Allie can’t stop thinking about Harry. She doesn’t want to lie and say she has a boyfriend, or that she’s dating someone, or anything. 

She just says she’s flattered, but declines his invitation to grab coffee, and he smiles and tells her to have a good day. Actually, he says, “Have a good one, beautiful,” and Allie blushes, knowing it’s hidden by the heat and exertion. 

She texts Harry a picture of herself in just her sports bra and running shorts. It’s really stupid and they haven’t done anything like this since before. God, they’ve been in touch every day, and it won’t be the first time they flirt, or whatever she’s trying to do, obviously. 

She likes him. A lot. And everything feels different and better. And sending him a picture because she knows he’ll like it makes her feel good. 

He texts back _’I am in CLASS’_ , and then _’Damn Allie’_ and then _’I’m calling you in an hour.’_

She rushes to shower and get home in time to talk to him, and when she answers his facetime and she’s in a grey tank on her bed, Harry smiles like he likes this, too, and says, “Why are you always wearing a shirt when we’re talking?”

She laughs and calls him gross and asks him how his class was. She loves the sly way he says he was distracted.

… … …

She and Maya absolutely pig out on junk food. They get a pizza one night, with garlic knots and sodas and then go to DQ for dessert. Then the next night they go get tacos at this spot they’ve heard is amazing (and it _is_ and Allie is not embarrassed that she goes back up for more twice). Then Raegan has a bottle of coconut rum and some orange juice and her bathing suit on. It starts to rain before they can go outside, but they’re buzzed enough off two quick shots that they sit around their suite in their bikinis and listen to music. 

She texts Harry that she’s a little drunk and asks what he’s doing. He says he’s studying for his last final, so she tries to leave him alone. 15 minutes later he texts _’What, no pics tho?’_ and she wants to ignore it, but she has Maya take one of her laid out on her bed in her bikini with her stupid cup of this drink that’s too sweet. He sends back _’I have so many questions about this.’_ Moments later, he sends _’Like, why do I find this so hot, and why am I not there with you?’_

She says it sounds like a him problem, and he says he could make it worth her while if she wants to help him solve it, and she blushes and throws her phone onto her bed. Maya takes it, holds it up to Allie’s face to unlock it and then shouts, “Bitch!” when she reads the messages. 

… … ...

She’s sort of bummed she can’t go to Cassandra’s graduation, but she also knows her sister has at least a few more years of school left before she’s through with her academic career. She sends flowers. Her dad sends her a photo of the four of them - her parents, Cassandra, and her grandpa. It makes her cry. Cassandra FaceTimes her and shows the diamond earrings their parents got her as a grad gift. They look pretty on her ears and Gordie is in the background and says, “She’s just pretty, Allie!” and Allie tries not to think the way Cassandra rolls her eyes is at least a little cute. 

Harry posts a photo of his grad, too. Well, he posts a photo of the insanely nice watch his mom gave him, and the ticket to Italy that apparently goes with it. 

Allie’s jealous. Not of how extravagant the gift is, but…

“You could come,” he says, and god, his voice like this is just…

“Harry.”

“Two weeks in Italy with me must sound pretty good.” Allie’s heart is racing and she honestly doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing. Well, she does know. It’s very much not nothing. That’s what they’re doing. 

“You know it does. You also know I’m in training camp,” she reminds him, and he sighs, and he obviously knew she couldn’t come. She wonders if he’d have asked if she could’ve said yes. She hates this limbo thing they’re doing. She knows how she feels. She wants to know she’s not crazy for it. “I don’t want to date anyone.”

Okay, that’s...She could’ve been more delicate, probably. 

“Anyone?” he asks. “Or anyone but me.”

She could scream. He’s smiling. She can _hear it_.

“Anyone but you,” she breathes out, and then feels...It’s so stupid that they’re doing this over the phone. But then again… “I think it’s dumb that we never say what we want. So I’m saying what I want.”

“And you want me?” he asks, voice low. 

“ _Harry_ ,” she pleads. 

He pauses a second, then says, “I like this radical candor thing.” Allie smiles, presses her head back against her pillow. “I don’t want you to date anyone but me, either.” She lets out a huff, and he laughs. She doesn’t know why he’s got to be such an asshole sometimes. “Allie.” Oh _god_ , that sounds good. “I want you.”

She’s holding her breath when she asks, “Only me?” and lets it out when he says, “Mhm.”

She says, “Okay,” and he says, “Okay,” and she’s pressing her nails against her palm in hopes it'll help her suppress her squeal.

“Why’re you being quiet?” he asks. 

She breathes, “I’m really happy.”

“Good.” He pauses, then says, “Sorry. I’m just...Thinking about us in Italy.”

She almost wants to joke that he could exchange the ticket for one to Florida, but it sounds so stupid even in her head. Like, who would want to come here instead of _Italy_.

“Well, what’re you thinking, specifically?” 

Allie thinks starting this when they’re long distance is just the craziest thing they could’ve done. She wants him so badly. She doesn’t think she’ll realistically see him until Christmas. It’s so far away she sort of wants to scream. 

But Harry’s voice is in her ear saying something about drinking wine during the day and getting her into bed at night, and Allie thinks that _god_ , the payoff here is going to be huge.

She’s afraid they’re making it easier than it should be. They talk literally all the time and they’ve had hard conversations and made apologies and been vulnerable. But it still feels so simple, and that scares the hell out of her. But maybe it’s fine. It’s probably fine. Harry’s voice is all soft when he says he feels really good about them now. He says he thinks they’re doing things right. Allie asks if he thinks they could’ve done this before and likes that he’s being honest when he says no. 

They used to talk all the time but this feels different. Now, they aren’t shying away from anything. They’re direct with each other. They say how they feel. Allie...she’s scared of how big it feels. But she kind of loves that, too. 

… … …

She misses her grandma so much it hurts sometimes. She hates herself for ever deleting voicemails. She feels like she doesn’t have enough to get by on anymore. Her mom sends her a video of her playing soccer in high school, and she can hear her grandma’s voice cheering her on. She cries for an hour and saves the file to her phone, then her laptop, then the cloud. 

… … ...

Okay, it’s hot as hell and one second she’s thinking she needs some more Gatorade and the next she’s feeling like she’s going to pass out. She finds some shade under one of the popup tents, sticks her arms in the cooler with the ice that’s there for this reason. One of the trainers asks her if she’s okay, gives her a pouch of some supplement or another and presses an ice cold towel to the back of her neck. She takes a few minutes rest from the scrimmage, drops ice cubes down her bra and runs some over her skin. When she goes to stand to swap in, she’s a little unsteady on her legs, and Coach gives her a look and tells her to sit down for the rest of practice. Allie’s pissed, but she probably shouldn’t be. It’s probably for the best. 

She falls asleep right after practice, after showering and lying down on her bed in underwear and a tank top. She meant to set an alarm but completely forgot, and when she wakes up at 8pm, she’s afraid her sleep pattern is going to be completely screwed. She also realizes she and Harry had a ‘date’ (her idea) and she missed it. There’s a missed call and two texts, then a third in which he’s worried. She rings him back and apologizes, sounds a little desperate even to herself, but then he says, “Wait, you almost fainted?” and sounds like she should’ve led with that. 

They raincheck their date. Well, no. They raincheck going for a walk at the same time, talking on the phone and ending the date with ice cream. He stays on the phone with her, only hangs up to FaceTime and suggests they start watching this series he’s heard good things about. Allie’s drifting off towards the end of the episode, and he says, “You’re lucky you’re cute,” and she apologizes again and smiles when he makes her promise to take it easy tomorrow. 

… … ...

She likes the texts she receives from him when he’s in Europe. He sends her his best photos - ones he doesn’t post on Instagram. He tells her stories about people he’s met, where he’s gone, what he’s seen. And the food. And the wine. The time difference isn’t impossible, so they can catch one another usually right after practice when it's evening where he is. He tells her the hotel is luxurious and sends her an obnoxious photo of him in a fluffy write robe that she threatens to make her lock screen. 

After the first week, he posts a picture of a meal he’s eating at a little restaurant with a sidewalk terrace, his plate of pasta, with bread and a glass of wine. The sun is casting shadows and there are people walking in the background. 

He’s captioned it _’Only thing missing is her’_ , and she’s so stunned and so...God, it feels so good? It’s such a stupid thing, but to have him post this and reference her even if no one else will know who he’s talking about is just such a sweet thing. She thinks so, anyway. 

Cassandra texts her 12 minutes after he’s posted it and says _’EXCUSE ME. ONLY THING MISSING IS HER? IS HE SERIOUS?’_ and Allie can’t tell if she’s being defensive and thinks he’s talking about someone else, or excited and wants to know more. Or, hidden option three, annoyed that she’s learning about this from his post and not from Allie.

Before Allie can even think of a response, Cassandra is FaceTiming her. 

“Allie Pressman.”

“Okay, you can’t full name your own sister.” Cassandra just stares at her. Allie rolls her eyes. Maybe the reason she’s been putting this off is that this feels like so much pressure. “We’re together.” Cassandra smiles really wide, but waits. “Which is...Obviously we’re not _together_ , but we’re… I don’t know? Committed to each other? In a relationship.”

“Oh, so you’ve actually admitted your feelings - finally - and been honest with each other?” Cassandra asks. 

“I don’t think you have to be quite so smug about it.”

“I think I do,” Cassandra laughs. “And I’d think you’d have learned by now that keeping secrets is a bad idea.”

“Low blow!” Allie cries, but she’s laughing a little, too. 

“It’s pretty on the mark, actually.”

“You taking Harry’s side could make the world shift on its axis. Be careful with that.” Allie doesn’t even mean it, but then what comes next sort of knocks her on her ass. 

“We spoke after you left.” She holds her breath. “I wanted to thank him for being there for you. He told me he wouldn’t have been anywhere else, and…” She stops herself, shakes her head as she smiles. “Remember the night you told me you were in love with him?” Allie just nods, and Cassandra shakes her head slowly. “You two are as bad as each other.” 

She doesn’t know if this is all speculation, or if he actually said something to Cassandra. But then… No. She knows him better than that. He wouldn’t outright tell Cassandra anything about his feelings for Allie, because he’s too prideful for that, really, and he’s - maybe more importantly - not going to give Cassandra anything she can hold over his head. 

“Good thing we’re saving other people from having to put up with us, then.”

“Mhm,” Cassandra says, lips pursed. “That’s what this is about.”

Allie tells her sister to shut up and asks if there’s anything else. 

Cassandra says, “Hey. I’m really happy for you,” and Allie just nods her head because she doesn’t know what else to say.

… … …

Helena’s the one who calls her to tell her, “Ugh. I think...I’m sorry, Allie, but I think Harry’s seeing some girl.”

And Allie wants to roll her eyes that their friends would think that after all this time, if she and Harry were still not close, that she’d care. But what she does instead is laugh her ass off. 

“I’m the girl.”

Helena screams in her ear, says, “Shut up! What the...Tell me everything!” 

Allie’s going to get really tired of telling this story. (And really sad, honestly, because it makes her think of her grandma and she’s always hit with a wave of sadness.) 

… … ...

When Harry gets back, they stay up too late talking. He’s jetlagged and she’s missed him, which she didn’t want to say flat out, but does anyway because she’s trying not to hide her feelings and whatever. Sometime around midnight, when she knows she should be sleeping or practice tomorrow will be miserable, she says, “I told Cassandra about us.”

Harry replies, with a laugh, dripping in sarcasm, “I’m sure she was shocked.”

“What did you say to her when…” It’s still hard to say it out loud that her grandma has passed. 

“She told me I was really good to you. Like she was surprised or something. I didn’t like that. So I said I only wanted to be good to you.”

Allie smiles, turns in her bed so she’s on her side. “Harry,” she says softly. “That’s like, really, really sweet.”

“I know,” he says, arrogant. She finds it hot instead of off-putting. “Okay, but can we talk about how I basically outed us on Instagram and you didn’t even like my photo.”

Allie laughs until there are tears in her eyes.

… … …

She’s shut out of their first two games of the season, takes it out on her cleats after a game by throwing them into her cubby. They sort of bounce around and fall onto the floor. She kicks them aside so she can sit down. This is stupid. She’s getting touches but can’t finish and she’s better than this. She’s frustrated and just wants this season to be better than the others. Maya tells her to chill, that it’ll happen and she needs to get out of her own head. 

She talks to her parents on the phone, who say placating things to her. Cassandra’s in the background, too. She’s jealous that they’re all together. She loves soccer, but she’s starting to feel like she can’t wait until her career is done and she can go _home_. It makes her think of that conversation she had with Cassandra when she was going off to Yale and Allie was about to start senior year. It makes her realize that part of her desire to be home is that Harry’s there. And she feels sort of shitty about that, but then…

Why would she? The more they do even this thing they do, where they talk every couple days, text constantly, are _dating_ , the more she thinks he’s maybe got her future in the palm of his hands. No, that’s not true. She thinks her future is in the palm of her own hands, and he’s part of it. She’s kicking ass at school, and she has him, too, and she can think of worse things than spending her next few years in Connecticut figuring out her career and being close to him. The first thing is most important - she’s not stupid. She just also doesn’t want to feel badly about wanting stability with Harry, too. She’s still young - they’re both still young. They’ve got plenty of time to fuck this up, and they totally could. She’s thinking it’ll be easier to avoid doing that if they’re in the same place. Just a year left of school, and if they’re still good by the end of it, then…

She calls him in the evening when it’s dark in her room and she can’t stop thinking too hard about her performance and _him_ and says, “I need a distraction.”

She can hear him smiling when he says, lowly, “I can help with that.”

… … …

She scores a hat trick in her next game. Harry sends her the stupid smirking emoji and she tells him to stop. He gives a genuine congratulations and she says she’ll text him later, after team celebration. 

… … …

They do a movie night with Poppy, because Harry says something about the girl wanting to ‘act grown and too good to hang out with him’ and Allie makes a joke that maybe she is too good for it and wants better company, and that she’s willing to offer up her time. Allie honestly doesn’t see what attitude he’s clocked on his little sister, but he’s obviously been around more than she has. 

Afterward, when Poppy’s sleeping on the sofa and he’s grumbling that he’s gonna have to carry her upstairs later, Allie says, “I wish I was there,” and means it. 

He says, “No, you don’t. We don’t even have good snacks. And mom’s gonna be home any minute.”

Allie grins at him a little. “How would your mom being home change our evening, Harry?” she asks sweetly. He narrows his eyes at her. “You just assume I’m putting out after a single movie date?”

He glances at his little sister, then gets up and leaves the living room, says, “I’m pretty confident in my ability to make you want to.”

She honestly doesn’t have an argument for that. 

She’s also frustrated by it, lets out a huff, and Harry laughs at her. 

“Shut up.”

“Just say you want me, Pressman.”

“Why don’t you say it first for once?” she asks, genuinely teasing. She hasn’t been keeping score. 

“You have no idea.” His voice is a little rough, and she takes a deep breath and says something, a joke, really, about him coming to visit. She means it to sound like ‘ha ha how quickly can you get here’, but Harry says, “Now there’s a thought.”

Poppy wakes up and pokes her head up over the back of the sofa, glowering at him for leaving her alone there. Okay, there’s a little attitude. 

Harry tells her to say goodbye to Allie, and Allie waves and blows a kiss to his sister. He asks if there’s one for him and she shakes her head no, which makes his jaw drop in offense. She feels a little stupid and like one of those gross couples when she does what he wants, but his smile almost makes it worth it. 

… … …

She feels selfish for it. He’s spending a bunch of money to come here, to fucking Florida in the summer, and she sort of asked him to and she doesn’t want him to feel like he _has_ to. She tells all this to Helena, who reminds her that money is the least of Harry’s problems, and that if he didn’t want to visit, he wouldn’t, and that _oh my god, of course he wants to visit_. Allie knows this is all true, and maybe she’s just nervous. They’ve been doing this, and she doesn’t doubt that they’re serious about each other, but she also hasn’t seen him since he was there for her when her grandma died, when she was _sad_ and stressed and in some cases like, panicking to a terrifying degree. 

Now he’s coming here, and she has a game during the time he’ll be around, and they’re a couple, and she’s feeling this weird pressure to have everything go perfectly. Which is impossible and she can’t handle. 

He asks her what hotel he should book, and she furrows her brow. “Why don’t you save the money and stay with me?”

He chuckles a little. At first, she thinks it’s at the notion that he needs to save money. But then: “You have roommates,” he reminds her. Right. “I’m thinking we may want more privacy.”

She flushes a little. This is so stupid. She knows he’s not meaning to stress her out, but it kind of is. But then she thinks the anxiety she has is sort of just excitement to see him, too. 

“I don’t hate the idea of taking advantage of our own room.”

“I know you don’t,” he says suggestively. She doesn’t even hate that. 

“Harry.”

“Hmm.”

“Book the room.”

… … …

She has practice with her kids the day he gets in. His flight lands at 4pm, and her practice wraps an hour before. She’s not going to the airport because he’d told her that seemed like a lot of back and forth for her - she had her own practice this morning, then a class, then coaching. 

He told her to check into the room and he’d let himself in. She has a bag with a couple changes of clothes and her gear for practice tomorrow morning. She definitely can’t just stay with him the whole week; she’s got a game and sleeping in a hotel with her boyfriend would get her in shit with her coach. She’s not going to risk it. He knows that and wasn’t bothered. 

She feels weird going to the front desk and saying she’s checking in with Harry Bingham. It’s a really nice hotel, and he'd told them he has a guest staying with him, gave them Allie’s name so there’d be no hassle. Maybe it’s not weird she feels, but a little more grown up than usual. 

The room is massive. She’s not totally surprised. He’d said something about his family having a points card, or something, for this chain and his mom said he could go ahead and use the upgrade they’d earned by purchasing his stay in Italy. There’s a king sized bed with all white linens, a huge bathroom with a soaker tub, and a mini bar with a sign that says everything is complimentary. 

She’s lying on the bed on her stomach, legs up in the air, channel surfing when she hears the keycard in the door and looks over just in time to see him walking through, suitcase rolling behind him. 

God, he’s so gorgeous. And the way he smiles when he sees her makes her heart light up. She moves so she’s on her knees, drops the remote, and then he comes over, door slamming behind him. 

He places his hands on her face and kisses her, inhaling into it like he’s really, really content, or something, and Allie puts her arms around him and is very aware of their position. She’s kneeling on the bed and Harry just...he hooks his arm around her waist, leans forward so she’s moving backward, and lies her down. He puts himself between her knees, smiles down at her like he’s really, really happy to see her. 

Allie realizes they haven’t said anything, laughs a little. 

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he breathes out. “I like your outfit.”

She laughs. She’s wearing shorts and a black tank top. It’s truly unspectacular. “You’re just glad to see me.” 

He nods, kisses her again. “So glad.” 

His lips are on her neck when her stomach rumbles, and he laughs, leans back and holds out his hand. She puts hers in his and thinks she loves him for this, too. For not rushing, even though they both want to. 

“What’s there to eat in Gainesville?” 

Harry has his arm around her when they leave the hotel. The doorman calls him Mr. Bingham and tells them to have a good evening. Allie calls him a rich asshole and makes him laugh and say she should just be glad she gets to reap some of the rewards along with him. She says, “Yeah, you know I’m with you for the financial perks,” and Harry chuckles and presses his lips to her temple. 

“With me, huh?” She doesn’t know what he’s talking about or why this stands out to him. She glances up at him questioningly. He sighs like he’s annoyed to have to explain himself, but she doesn’t care. “It’s really good to be here.”

Allie stops them on the sidewalk, not caring if anyone has to move around them, and twines her arms around him again, leaning up on her toes and pressing her face against his shoulder. 

She wants to tell him she loves him. It feels like a good moment for it. But it’s also crazy, and his first visit and their first time being together in person since they decided to actually do this thing they’ve danced around for probably years, and she doesn’t want to say anything too soon. Or prematurely, which is maybe more accurate. Like, yeah, they’ve made a mess of things by not saying anything, but she doesn’t want to swing too far the other way, either. 

Harry presses a kiss to her pulse and his hands flex on her hips.

She takes him to this place she knows that has a good salad selection. He gets a chicken sandwich and fries and keeps asking her if she’s really okay with just a salad and she keeps insisting it’s totally fine. She tells him more about her diet during the season, how she eats a ton of greens and lean proteins, carbs at certain times of day but not others, and drinks almost exclusively water, except for max one cup of coffee in the mornings, and Gatorade during practices and games. It honestly doesn’t bother her; she’s so used to it by now that it’s just the way things are. Harry swipes a fry through his ketchup and then steals a piece of spinach with an almond and strawberry off her plate. She doesn’t mind. God, they used to share almost everything. She remembers snacks in her grandma’s house, watching him lick peanut butter off his finger and asking her if she was going to eat the last apple slice. 

Allie tucks her hair behind her ear and Harry presses his foot up against hers beneath the table, asks her what’s crossing her mind right now. 

“My grandma.” He smiles at her, reaches for his water. “She used to get mad at me for not letting our guest eat the last of everything.”

Harry laughs - Allie still loves the sound. “Okay, but your grandma mad was still the most gentle thing ever.” 

Allie smiles. That’s true. “And I told her you weren’t a guest, you were my friend.” 

Harry’s looking down at the table like there’s something he wants to say. Allie doesn’t want to stop him from it, but she sort of wishes he’d hurry up and come out with it. 

“Last Christmas, she asked me why we weren’t talking.” Allie holds her breath. Her grandma knew everything. Allie doesn’t know why she’d ask him, other than to try to convince him to fix it. “I was dropping off our gift.” 

She presses her lips together to make sure she doesn’t start crying. That’d be embarrassing. She sort of loves that he was still in touch with them when he wasn’t in touch with her. 

“What did you say?”

He shrugs a shoulder, but that’s not good enough for her. He takes a breath. “I figured...I dunno. I didn’t want to make you sound bad. I thought it’d be easier on you if I just said it was my fault.”

This makes so much sense to her. It at least explains the conversation she’d had with her grandma, in which the woman said that sometimes people disappoint you but that doesn’t mean they don’t care about you. It had felt a little out of the blue, but she figured they were talking about Harry. She’s a little floored by the fact that even when they weren’t talking, he was obviously still fond enough of her - cared enough - to be this thoughtful about how he answered this question he was asked. 

“She knew what happened,” Allie says, because it feels wrong to keep it to herself. Secrets being a not great part of their history, and all that. Harry’s brow is furrowed. “I told her everything.” 

“Everything?” he asks gently, clearly implying that he wants to know if she really talked to her grandmother about sleeping with him. She nods. “Why?”

“I was upset. I didn’t know who else to talk to.” Harry lets out his breath like that makes him sad, or something. She supposes it makes sense. It _is_ a little sad. She has friends, obviously, that she could’ve told. But it just really felt different then. She didn’t want them to know. 

“She would’ve loved to see this,” he says, sly grin in place, taking her hand over the table. He nudges her birthstone ring with his thumb, and she knows he does that because he knows who it’s from. 

Something about this moment feels so big to her. She knows he’s right, too. 

“She would’ve laughed.” Harry nods, smiling down at their hands. “Hey, let’s stop talking about things that’ll make me cry.” 

He squeezes her hand, asks her to remind him what time her practice is tomorrow morning. She knows he knows - the plan was for him to meet her at the facility afterward so she can show him around campus. Which was his idea and she doesn’t really get. This isn’t some fancy Ivy with old, ornate buildings. But he says he wants to see where she’s spent the last few years of her life. 

When they get back to the hotel it’s barely 8:30. Allie takes off her jewelry, except her star, leaves it on the bedside table, and then Harry’s behind her, chest pressed against her back. 

“Allie,” he says, voice rough. She smiles a little, closes her eyes, tilts her head. He gathers her hair all over one shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I had you?”

Allie feels desire course through her and nods her head. She believes him because she thinks it’s true for her, too. Harry’s hand is on her hip, then moving across her stomach, stopping to lay flat just below her belly button. She feels warm all over and knows she’s breathing hard. 

When she turns around, she accidentally catches his side with her elbow and he’s smiling so she doesn’t bother apologizing. He looks down, watching her chest rise and fall, then his gaze travels upward, over her necklace, to her lips, and then her eyes. 

“I’ve literally never wanted anyone the way I want you.” She worries it sounds stupid, but then he’s smiling as he kisses her. 

Allie takes off her own shirt, but Harry does the rest. 

_God_ , she’s missed this. 

… … …

There’s a hickey on her inner thigh, and her shorts are just barely long enough to cover it. She noticed it in the shower, but then when she’s getting dressed she realizes it’s going to be potentially tricky to keep it covered at practice. It’s certainly not a big deal, but when she turns around, wearing just her shorts and bra, he’s watching her really appreciatively, and she just… He’s naked in this massive hotel bed, and she’s thinking about last night, and he looks really, really hot.

She lifts the fabric at her thigh, turns her leg, and watches the ridiculous grin spread across his face. “Anything to say for yourself?”

He eyes her darkly, sits up a little. “You’re welcome?” 

Allie laughs, tells him to shut up, and sits next to him on the edge of the bed. He sinks a hand into her hair and kisses her. She has to leave in five minutes if she wants to get to practice on time. Which she does; has to. They have a game in two days, and then a day off practice, and then Harry’s in town for one more day after that. She’s glad they get a full day of rest. She’s glad he’ll be here for it. 

“You’ll meet me there?” He nods, leans in to kiss her again. She thinks he’s trying to make it as difficult as possible to leave. “I’ll leave your name at the desk so they let you in.” He looks confused. “Can’t let just anyone into the practice facility, Harry.”

“I know you’re a big deal, but are you like, a really big deal?”

Allie doesn’t know how to answer that. There are posters of her on campus. There’re flags leading to their home field with her face and jersey number on them. She’s used to it by now, but it might be weird for him. 

“You’ll see,” she says, and he looks intrigued and cute and his bedhead is making her want him like crazy, which is stupid. 

“You’re wearing a shirt, right?” he asks. 

She grabs it off the end of the bed, says, “For now,” and pulls it over her head. 

Harry laughs, tells her she’s stupid hot. She kisses him and says she’ll see him in a few hours. 

She lasts 25 minutes in practice with her shirt on under her practice jersey, peels it off and continues on. It’s hot and they’re running plays they tend to fuck up. Allie’s a huge part of three of the four. As such, she doesn’t get much rest. She and Maya sit in the shade with ice water and the fans pointed at them to cool down before heading back out. 

Look, she’s a professional, okay? So when Harry shows up a half hour before the end of her practice, she doesn’t let him distract her. Besides, he’s seen her play so many times that she has nothing to feel weird about. They nail the hardest play once, then twice, then Reagan is well-defended and ends up passing to Brynn instead of Allie, and Brynn has trouble finishing at the best of times. (What? It’s not her strength? She’s great at a lot of other things.) Before they run it again, Allie glances over and sees Harry standing there across the field in jeans, a white button down, his stupid expensive aviators. He’s just watching her, arms leaning back against the railing behind him. 

They run the play perfectly. Allie scores top corner and celebrates, hugging Maya and Brynn, then handing out high fives to anyone close enough. 

They have to walk past Harry to get to the locker room. There’s no way he could’ve known that. 

“Oh shit,” Maya says, laughing as she slips her cleats off and reaches for her slides. “He looks even better in person.”

Allie wants to roll her eyes. He’s far enough away that there’s no way Maya can actually make that judgement. 

But. It’s true, also.

She’s walking towards him, flanked by Maya and Reagan, who she knows are only here because they’re nosey as fuck and want to catcall him, or something else embarrassing, probably. She’s got her cleats in her hand and her shirt over her shoulder. This is literally how she always leaves practice; how most of them do. She wasn’t joking earlier about the shirt thing. 

Harry’s smiling as she approaches, pushes himself off the railing and says, “Looked good out there, superstar.” 

Maya mumbles, “Oh, my god,” under her breath and starts laughing. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. The guy looks like he just walked out of the pages of the Robb Report!”

Harry laughs, ducks his head a bit. Allie’s skin is covered in sweat, and she just wants to introduce her roommates who she talks about all the time - whose photos he’s seen and who he’s heard in the background of their calls sometimes - then shower and leave with him. 

“Maya and Reagan,” she tells him, and Harry reaches out to shake their hands. “We’ll hang out later this week.” Maya gives her a _look_ like she better not be lying, or something. “Promise! God.” She turns to Harry. “Sorry.” She’ll give him credit for not looking too uncomfortable at the scrutiny. “I’m just gonna shower. I’ll be back in like, 10.”

“Sure.” He reaches for a curl that’s gone rogue at her temple in the heat and humidity. Allie feels Maya’s eyes on her. Reagan is smiling in her line of sight. “Do something about this hair, yeah?”

“Never,” Allie says, eyes on his. He gives her a crooked grin and she makes her way to the locker room. 

… … …

He jokes that the campus is like a shrine to her. She tells him it’s okay if he likes ogling her picture every time he sees it. He pulls out his phone and snaps one of her walking, a massive banner with her face on it in the background. He thinks it’s hilarious but she rolls her eyes at him. 

“I think we can do better than that,” she tells him, and stops walking, presses her cheek against his. At the last second, before he takes the picture, he turns his head to kiss her cheek. 

They’re being stupid and coupley and she loves it. 

… … …

The next day after practice, they skip lunch and end up in bed instead. Allie’d said something about needing to do some reading, and Harry had said, “Interesting,” and then slid his lips across her shoulder. 

Now, they’re lying in the mostly dark hotel room, the curtains pulled closed and only letting in the faintest bit of afternoon sunlight. Allie’s on her back and Harry’s on his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow and the other lazily draped over her stomach. 

“Wanna know something crazy?” he asks, his voice soft, just the way she loves it. She nods, plays with his hair, watches his eyes slip closed gently, then open again. “My dad called this shit when we were like, 16.”

Allie laughs softly, not knowing what to say. “Really?” she prompts when he doesn’t say more. 

He nods. Allie lets her fingers drag over his scalp. He likes that, she knows. He meets her eyes, then, smiles a little. 

“He said we’d either be reckless and make a mess of it, or figure it out.” 

Allie laughs softly. “Bet he didn’t think we’d overachieve and do both.” 

“I was with Kelly. I told him he was crazy.” She’s not transported back to the time and place and hurt she felt when he was with Kelly. God, they’d been stupid kids and didn’t know _anything_. She’s absolutely not going to hold anything over him that happened so many years ago at this point. “He told me flat out he liked you better.”

Allie preens a little, her heart feeling full. “God, I loved your dad,” she confesses. Harry smiles fondly. She turns onto her side so their faces are close together. “He said he won the lottery with you.” Harry stills, going a little tense as he looks at her. “I’m starting to understand the feeling.” 

He pauses. Then, timidly, “He said that?” She just nods, hoping she hasn’t upset him. “Sorry, I just… It’s been so long since I heard a new thing about him.”

Allie is immediately emotional, puts her hand on his cheek and kisses him gently. He leans into her, then moves them so she’s all tucked up against him. 

“I’ve got some stories,” she says, and he lets out a little breath like the thought had never crossed his mind, that maybe his dad and Allie had their own relationship, too. Selfishly - and she truly thinks it is - there are just some things she wants to keep just for her. Things she thinks James would’ve wanted to be just theirs, too. So she says, “Remember that time he caught us making out in the pool?”

“Oh god,” Harry groans, laughing a little. “Yeah. I don’t know if you know this, but having a doctor as a parent makes the sex talk clinical as fuck. And he wouldn’t tell me what he said to you when he drove you home.” She smiles, then, knowing she’s right to keep it to herself. “And you won’t either?” Allie shakes her head. Harry, instead of being annoyed, grins at her instead like he understands or likes this. “Maybe one of the top five makeouts of my life, by the way.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, shoving him. “I take up any other spots on the top five, Harry?”

His hand moves to her hip, thumb dipping temptingly low. “All of them.” 

… … …

Harry is unashamed when they’re dressed in nicer clothes - her, a floral dress cut to the knee, and him, khaki slacks and a black shirt - and asks a stranger to take their photo. It’s weird and posed and she doesn’t really like it. Most of their pictures are just them being stupid and taking selfies or dumb pictures of each other. 

Harry takes one of her as they walk through this park, and she actually really loves it. She didn’t know he was taking it. He makes it his lock screen for the whole night until she tells him to remove it because it’s weird. He laughs, says she’s unlike any other girl he’s ever been with, and she tells him that’s probably a good thing. She doesn’t even know what she means by that. 

A homeless man calls them a beautiful couple and Harry slips a $20 into the guy’s palm. Allie tells him to have a good night, and as they walk away, he’s joking that he’s got more compliments if they’ve got more money. 

“It is seriously hot as hell down here. How do you do this?” he asks, fanning himself with his shirt. Allie laughs and shrugs her shoulder. She’s walking along a raised concrete barrier on this little high street she likes. There’re flowers everywhere and it reminds her of being a kid in her grandparents’ yard. Harry reaches for her hand as she walks along, several inches taller than him. He smiles at her like he thinks this is nice, or something. 

Her game is tomorrow so he’s going to take her back to the dorm tonight. Earlier, they’d had lunch with Maya and Reagan in one of the better dining halls. Harry’d been game for it, needling her roommates for stories about Allie’s college debauchery. She’d tried to be a good sport, until Maya said something about the time Allie randomly made out with that guy who ended up being a TA in one of her classes. Harry’d just looked impressed, tilted away from her like he didn’t know she had it in her, as her cheeks turned pink and she said they stretched the truth. He hadn’t been her TA until the next semester, so it was barely weird. (It was still a little weird.)

Harry’s hands are on her hips, helping her down off the ledge. She doesn’t need it, but she likes the way it feels. He checks his watch and says they have time left, which sort of confuses her until he points to the DQ on the corner and she laughs out loud, hooking her arm through his. 

She probably shouldn’t be eating ice cream before a game day, but it’s her senior year and her boyfriend is here and this is maybe one of her best nights ever. Harry makes like he’s disgusted as she eats hers, threatening to make him try it again now that he’s an adult and hopefully has more sense and better taste. 

He wipes a bit of ice cream from the corner of her lip, looks at her darkly, and god, she wants him, too, but it’s getting late and she needs a good night's sleep. 

They drive back to campus, and he gets out of the car to walk her to her dorm room. He’s got his hands stuffed deep in his pockets when they get to her door, and Allie gives him a look as if to ask what’s going on with him. 

“I just got really nervous,” he says, laughing a little at himself. Okay, so that’s seriously adorable. Allie bites her bottom lip. “This feels like a serious date.”

She laughs out loud, puts her hand on his shoulder. He reaches for her waist. “Newsflash, Harry. We’re kinda serious.”

“I know,” he says softly, and she’d meant to just tease him, get him to lighten up, but he’s looking down between them and she wants to know what’s going on in that head of his. “Something about dropping you off at home just made it real.”

“Made what real?”

He grins boyishly, and she’s reminded so much of the guy she crushed on so hard when she was like 13 that it makes her a little lightheaded. “You're my girlfriend.”

Allie hesitates, realizes she’s digging her nails into her palms. She’s just filled with all this affection for him and she doesn’t know what to do with it. Not just because she can’t go with him tonight and slip into bed and remind him in every way she knows how just _how_ important he is to her, how happy she is, how much she wants this. But because he’s sort of right. This does feel big and serious and something about saying it out loud makes it even more real. She’s not feeling scared or anxious, she’s feeling _excited_ and really...She wants to see what happens next. She can’t wait for it. For when she’s done school and they aren’t separated by hundreds of miles. 

“Harry.” He hums, and she tilts his face up with her hand. “You should kiss me goodnight.” 

He takes a breath, wets his lips, and does as she asks. 

… … …

They win their game, and she has a goal and an assist. She skips out early from team celebration for the first time ever, and ignores Maya’s shouting about her ditching them to get laid. She throws her middle finger up as she walks away, and Harry’s waiting in the parking lot by his rental car. He asks her what she wants to do to celebrate, and then laughs and says, “Okay,” when she just looks at him darkly. 

When they get to the room, there’s champagne chilling and he’s ordered food, and Allie appreciates that he knew she’d be starving. She has a glass of champagne before room service arrives, and she’s a little buzzed from drinking on an empty stomach and from kissing Harry. Part of her wonders if they’re doing too much of this, but that’s so silly. All they _do_ when he’s not here is talk. They talk more than she’s ever talked with a boyfriend. And she likes that. And she doesn’t want to feel badly for wanting to make the most of the time they’re in the same place. 

She is very much trying not to think of how much it’s going to suck when he leaves. 

She’s wearing a black crop top and matching underwear, sitting on a hotel bed with a champagne flute in one hand, eating a salad that is so good it made her moan, and Harry’s watching her like maybe he’s never been so happy, and god, if one of them doesn’t just _say the words_ , she’s going to freak out. 

She climbs on top of him when most of the champagne is done, when she’s brushed her teeth and they’ve dimmed the lights. 

“This is familiar,” he says, voice gruff, hands sliding up onto her ass. He sits up, and she really, really likes the way it feels looking down at him like this, her hands on his face. 

“You love it,” she breathes out, and then just gently tugs his hair, which makes his fingers dig into her a little more. He nods, and she lets him go, leans back and pulls her top off. His mouth finds her breast easily, tongue swiping against her skin. She hadn’t really thought this through, and doesn’t know what she wants next. 

“Baby,” he says a little brokenly, when she settles her weight on him again. It feels good for her, too. But she pushes at his chest a little so he’ll lie back down, and thinks the way his hands gather her hair as she kisses down his body is really, really hot. 

… … …

She will absolutely admit to pouting as he packs his things. Harry, very politely, does not say anything about the look on her face or the fact that she’s not helping him and that she frowned when she asked again what time he was leaving for the airport. 

She does the thing her mom always told her is important, and triple checks all the spaces and places to make sure they haven’t left anything behind. Harry’s being quiet and letting her do it. She feels stupid for being a little emotional. 

“Christmas,” he says when she shoulders her bag so they can leave. It makes her set it down again. She doesn’t mind staying in the room for this talk. They have time. 

“That feels so far away.” He nods his agreement, and then kisses her forehead. She doesn’t want to be annoyed that he’s being so delicate with her, when she’s acting like a baby anyway. “We knew this would happen.”

Harry grins. “This, or we’d fuck it up in like, a day and a half.” Allie laughs, despite the fact that she’s trying to be serious. “I’ll take this over that.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m irritated that you somehow found a silver lining to this and now I feel like a jerk for whining about it.” 

“It’s cool if you just miss me like crazy and can’t stand to be away.” He’s teasing, laughs when she shoves at his chest, then grabs her by the wrist to pull her into a hug. She takes a deep breath and his other arm goes around her shoulders, holding her close, his mouth against her ear. “Last night I told you I love you but I think you were sleeping.” 

Allie thinks her heart stops, just for a second. She breathes out his name and pulls away, hands clutching at his shirt. “What?”

He looks so...gentle. Bashful, almost. She’s used to seeing him vulnerable, but this is something completely different, and she realizes usually his vulnerability comes with sadness, and this time there’s just...there’s joy marking his features. Allie almost wishes she could live in this moment forever. 

“I do,” he tells her, and she sort of loves, too, that he hasn’t just said the three words again. Couldn’t tell you why. 

“I do, too,” she says, watches him look down, smiling, and then back up to her face before he leans his forehead against hers. She feels like she owes it to him - maybe to both of them - to actually say it. He has. And she’s said it once before, but things are so different now. It comes out as a whisper; “I love you.” 

… … …

He texts her when he lands. She sends back a screenshot of her lock screen, and it’s that stupid picture of them together with his lips on her cheek. 

He sends one back of his own lock screen. It’s a photo she didn’t see him take, when she was walking on that ledge, one leg sort of to the side as she leans and tries to keep balance. There’re pink flowers in the background that clash with the ones on her dress. She thinks she looks really pretty, actually, and wonders why he didn’t show her the photo when he took it. 

She writes back, _’Acceptable’_. He sends back the eye roll emoji. 

… … …

He starts at Yale in September, tells her he has a panic attack in his car on campus before his first class, which just makes her worry and want to talk to him on the phone, but he tells her he’s totally fine and just freaking out that the next three years are going to be hard as hell. They will be, she knows, and she doesn’t want to placate him and say he’s overreacting and he’s smart and he can do it. He is smart and he can do it, but she doesn’t want it to feel empty or dismissive when she says so. 

Allie learns that if she could just pack in two more classes this semester, she could graduate in December, but she can’t fathom juggling that many courses plus soccer, so she actually ends up splitting the difference and leaving the harder classes to next semester. But she’s annoyed, because she probably could have managed this better and saved herself a half a year, or whatever. But then, looking back on how stressed she was through most of her college career, it’s hard to imagine where she would’ve been able to fit any additional classes. And it’s not like she’s behind, or anything. And her tuition is covered, so really it’s just the time she’ll have to spend here. She knows without a doubt that if she weren’t trying to change geographies for a guy, she wouldn’t be in such a rush. And that makes her feel a little better about it, because honestly, she’s her own person and she can absolutely manage the distance and doesn’t need proximity to a guy to be happy. 

It helps, but isn’t a fundamental necessity. 

From what she’s learned, almost no one is back in West Ham after college. Because most of them aren’t done with schooling; with a few exceptions, everyone’s doing some kind of post-grad. Kelly’s going into medicine. Helena’s starting law school, too. Luke has finished his engineering degree, but is staying where Helena’s staying. Grizz, Allie already knew about. Becca, Will and Sam are both going into their senior years. Then there’s Cassandra and Gordie, obviously. Will says something about dropping out to go to culinary school, but then she hears that since he’s so close to finishing his degree, he’s going to complete that first. 

Allie talks to her grandpa on her grandma’s birthday. He sounds sad, but like he’s trying not to be. She doesn’t get it. He can be sad. She buys fresh flowers for her room, which look a little out of place in a shitty dorm. Her grandpa asks her if she needs any money, and she’s laughing when she says no. It’s so like him - he asks it every time they talk. And she knows when she checks her account tomorrow, there’ll be some amount he’s deposited in there. 

Harry calls her late one night when he’d told her he had a ton of studying to do and she’d finished the first draft of a paper and then watched a movie with Maya. He asks if he’s woken her, and she lies and says no, but he can probably hear it in her voice. She knows he’s been stressed, mostly because he’s putting too much pressure on himself and while she’s not great at not doing that, herself, she’s been trying to help him. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” he says, and she tries to picture him in his bedroom. It’s usually easy to do. More often than not, they FaceTime. “I was just thinking about you.” 

Allie feels warm all over, turns onto her side and holds her phone to her ear. “About how great I am?”

He lets out a low hum, confirming what she’d suspected. This isn’t a thing they do often. No particular reason, really. They randomly send each other dirty texts, and they’ve sexted a few times. One time on FaceTime he’d said all the right things to get her worked up and she’d slipped her hand into her shorts, the camera pointed only at her face, and, god, Harry’s good with words. 

“Exactly,” he says, and her face flushes. “I’m stressed out.” This is predictable, isn’t it? Guys wanting to work out their stress with sex? (Not that she’s not guilty of the same.) “You’re good at calming me down.” She doesn’t mean to laugh, but he’s got to admit he sounds a little ridiculous. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Sorry. I’ll be...What, serious? Sexy?” He lets out a little huff. Allie drops her voice so it’s more quiet. “Whatever you want.” 

“Shit,” he chuckles. “I was just gonna say I wanted a hug, but if you’re gonna sound like that…”

“Sure you were, Harry.” She waits a beat, then he asks her if she can stay on the phone for a bit, hears his sheets rustling as he gets into bed.

She feels sort of really hot talking to him, but then she’s also a little tightly wound, and Harry makes a joke about saying goodnight that goes right over her head until he’s laughing lowly in her ear and telling her to touch herself. He caps it with, “For me,” and she clenches her teeth so she won’t be loud. 

… … …

She ends up having her best season ever, but they still don’t win a title. She honestly thought she’d be more upset than she is. She’s upset, obviously, and she cries, because this was her last chance. It’s just that she’s known that for so long and it’s almost as though she’s made her peace with it. 

Then she’s named a 2nd Team All American, and her name is everywhere again. Her roommates make a bigger deal of it than it needs to be, and her parents send her the article in the local paper. There’s all sorts of coverage she doesn’t really want to pay attention to, because none of it really means anything. Her playing career is still over. At least competitively, at a high level. When she realizes that, when it really hits her, is when she starts freaking out. She’s been playing this stupid game almost her whole life. It’s so wrapped up in who she is, that she wonders who she’ll be without it. Yeah, she’s got plans to coach, or train people, or do whatever she can to keep it in her life, but what is she going to _do_ if she’s not Allie Pressman, elite soccer player? 

(She’s not even elite. If she was, she knows she’d be getting calls from pro teams or the national one. She’s good, but she’s not ‘career player’ good. She’s known that all along, so it doesn’t sting, really.) 

She staves off a panic attack by reminding herself that she’s smart, and capable, and has _plans_ , okay? She’s not having the rug torn out from under her. She always knew she’d move onto something else right around now. 

She says all this to Cassandra on the phone, and then to Grizz, and then to Harry. 

He’s the only one who says, “Yeah, but you can still be sad,” and she honestly loves him for that, too. 

He makes some joke about how now she’ll have to beef up her wardrobe with real clothes, not just workout shit, and the thing is, there’s totally some truth to it. She makes a mental note to ask for gift cards to her favorite stores for Christmas. 

… … …

She spends Thanksgiving in Miami with Maya and her family. She’s been invited every year, but this year she actually takes her up on the offer. Allie’s down for the drive, and really looking forward to getting away for a break. Things have sort of settled, and she’s just trying to finish her semester and her year and her college career strong. And she knows Maya’s parents super well, because they’ve visited enough for games and they’ve met a bunch of times. 

Allie knew Maya’s family had money, but pulling up to this house with a literal gate in front, on the water, with elaborate landscaping and a massive garage. Allie sees the pool in the back and looks over at her friend. Her friend who likes to tease the hell out of her for how rich her boyfriend is. 

“Maya. What the fuck?” Allie laughs, pulling her bag from the backseat. Maya just rolls her eyes and then plasters on a smile when her mom comes into the garage from the house to greet them. 

Like, this place...the pool in the back has a sort of built up deck area in shallow water with lounge chairs built into it. After they’ve said their hellos, they change into their suits and Maya’s dad mixes them some mojitos and, at Maya’s insistence, takes a bunch of photos of them. 

Allie fully admits to cropping her friend out of the one she sends to her boyfriend. She sends her family one of the two of them. 

Harry’s response is the heart eyes emoji. Cassandra replies to the other picture that she’s jealous and would’ve been happy to fill the empty chair to Allie’s left. It’s cute. 

They stay up too late every night and drink too much and Allie’s having fun even if this does not at all feel like Thanksgiving. She hopes she isn’t insulting when she says that out loud. Maya’s mom just asks her what Thanksgiving is like in New England, and Allie shares about the dinner and her grandparents’ house and the fire. 

Harry FaceTimes her and he’s clearly crashed her family’s dessert, but she loves _so much_ that he’s there and it seems so normal to everyone that he is. Grandpa lights the fire and Allie has tears in her eyes. 

Harry says, “Love you,” before he hangs up, just after he’s stepped outside and promised to get off the phone so her parents can call her right back. 

Allie blows him a kiss and Maya makes a gagging sound behind her. 

… … …

She gets 98% on a test, and then a 92% on a paper, and her professor asks her what her goals are. She says she wants to teach, and he nods and then asks if she’s thought of administration, because her blend of business acumen and understanding of the education system could make her a prime candidate. She doesn't know what to do with that, really, but she keeps it in the back of her mind. On the weekend, she talks to her dad about it, and he seems to think that’s an interesting idea, too. He asks her what she wants from her work, and she honestly doesn’t have much of an answer past wanting to feel fulfilled.

“Would you feel fulfilled working at a school board doing administration?” he asks, and she thinks he already knows the answer. She shakes her head. “You want to teach.”

“At least at first,” she says, and then adds, “Maybe I should do some career mapping and make a plan.”

“Can I help?” he asks, totally seriously, very eagerly. Allie laughs and says yes.

They spend the next hour with a virtual whiteboard app he makes her download. She keeps swiping away notifications from her friends and Harry, and her dad thinks it’s hilarious. He says if she was as rich in money as she is in text messages, she wouldn’t need a career at all. It’s a goofy joke, but she laughs anyway.

By the end of it, she’s got only a few ideas and a rough plan, and she knows she’ll still need to complete certification, which she thinks she’d do anyway even if she wasn’t going to actively teach, just because it seems important.

Her dad says, “I’m proud of you,” and Allie feels probably too good about it.

… … …

She goes out with Maya and Reagan the day their semester ends. They drink too much tequila and dance until they’re sweating a disgusting amount, and Allie doesn’t pay for a single thing, because if there’s one thing Maya excels at (okay, there are many, but still) it’s getting guys to pay for her drinks.

The cutest guy of the group they’ve ended up joining with is talking to Allie, and Maya butts in with, “No, not her. She’s practically married,” and Allie laughs too hard at that because it’s not remotely true, but also doesn’t care at all about being separated from this guy. A song she likes comes on, so she drags Reagan to the dance floor and then, stupidly, whines something about missing Harry. She’s drunk and it’s true, but Reagan rolls her eyes and tells Allie to stop being gross about it. 

They are all _very_ hungover in the morning, and the cute guy wanders out of Maya’s room looking a little sheepish, or something, as Allie and Reagan try to decide what to do for breakfast. Maya says, “Fuck it, can we just get McD?” and uses her phone to order. She tells them the cute guy is actually good in bed and she gave him her actual number. Which is a big deal for her. Allie leans against her friend’s shoulder and they decide to put on Clueless while they wait for their food. They rock, paper, scissors for who has to go downstairs to get it and Allie loses. 

Harry’s last final is today. After his test, he says that now that it’s over, he can focus on what he’s been wanting to focus on, which is that starting tomorrow, he’s got three weeks with her. He’s sweet and sexy and Allie gets roasted by her friends for texting him during the movie. When she gets up to pack her things, she sets up a Zoom with Helena, Grizz, Sam and Cassandra, and somehow Harry finds out about it and texts her relentlessly until she sends him the link to join.

… … …

Harry is at her house when she pulls up with her dad, who’d picked her up from the airport. She won’t say she’s surprised, per se, but this definitely wasn’t the plan. The plan was that she’d have dinner with her parents, and then they’d make plans, or something. 

Harry’s in the kitchen, standing at the counter eating charcuterie off the fancy serving dishes, as her mom makes dinner. Cassandra and Gordie are sitting at the island, too, and Allie’s grandpa is hovering by the stove as if whatever it is her mom’s making needs his input and attention, too.

Allie presses her lips together and drops her bag, kicks off her shoes. She hugs her mom first, then her grandpa, and she feels like she’s going to _cry_ , missing her grandma furiously. She hugs Cassandra, then Gordie, and then just sort of tucks herself into Harry’s side. Her dad is watching as Harry kisses her hair and murmurs, “Hey.” 

She won’t lie and say she didn’t want a more private hello. But she likes this, too. It’s equally as good, just in a different way.

“He just showed up and wouldn’t leave,” Cassandra says, reaching for a piece of bruschetta. Allie smiles to herself, then glances at Harry. He rolls his eyes like he’s annoyed with what is obviously a lie. “He’s been trying to convince us he’s family, or something.”

It is truly _weird_ to see Cassandra and Harry be so playful with each other. Well, Cassandra be so playful and for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of him. Okay, maybe it’s not that weird.

“That’s not true,” he counters, and Allie laughs. Her dad slides a wine glass her way. Her heart feels full when she hears her grandpa chuckling. “Your mom invited me. She said I’m welcome any time. Your grandpa said I’m practically family.”

Allie raises her brow. She knows _exactly_ how much that means to him. 

“I’m not sure who to believe,” she says, though she absolutely does. Harry pinches her side and then pours her some red wine. She takes a sip, slips her arm around his waist. Gordie raises his hands like he’s staying out of it when Harry looks at him for backup, or whatever.

Allie’s dad asks Harry if he minds helping Allie upstairs with her things. Honestly, his blatantly obvious excuse to give them a few minutes alone is so appreciated it makes Allie want to hug him again. 

Allie grabs Harry by the shirt as soon as he’s set her suitcase down in her bedroom, and she’s watching his smile right before she kisses him. She walks backwards to her bed, sort of flops back onto it, and laughs when he lands on top of her. He keeps kissing her, though, as though they both know they only have very few minutes before their staying up here will be seen as inappropriate. 

When they all sit down at the table, Harry’s hand rests on her thigh for a few moments before they start eating. After dinner but before dessert, when her dad pours him some scotch, Harry’s got one arm around the back of her chair and the other hand cradling his glass. Allie’s staring at him as he talks about law school - because her grandpa asked - and Cassandra gives her a _look_ across the table. 

After Harry and Gordie and grandpa have left, and Allie’s parents are in bed and she and Cassandra are still drinking wine in the living room, Cassandra brings it up. 

“I was really worried you two were rushing,” she says, and Allie looks at her like she’s insane. Literally no one who knows them would’ve thought they were rushing into anything. The reaction has been the opposite. “No, I...No one knows what’s going to happen, obviously, but you two just seem so…” Allie’s thinking a word ( _final_ ) but doesn’t want to interrupt. “ _Huge_.”

“Maybe that’s just all the back and forth,” Allie says, and it’s a thing she’s thought a lot before. She and Harry are _solid_ , and even though being apart sucks, they’re good together. She doesn’t doubt him or anything about them. But she has wondered if this is a honeymoon stage in which everything feels good and blissful because they’re putting behind them years of hurt and almosts.

It’s Cassandra who says, “I don’t think that’s it,” and Allie just looks at her. “You just make a lot of sense, I guess. And I always forget how mature you are.”

Allie laughs. “Kid sister forever, right?”

Cassie laughs, sips her wine, and Allie leans against her and wonders if she’s crazy to want to be back in this stupid town as badly as she does. 

… … …

For New Years, she wears a black one shoulder dress and a pair of gold heels she got on sale after Thanksgiving for way too cheap considering how good they make her legs look. Her parents got her a delicate gold bracelet for Christmas, so she’s wearing that, too. She gets ready in Harry’s bedroom while he sips sparkling water and heads downstairs at one point to steal some of the catering food and bring it up to her. He zips her dress for her and then when she slips her feet into her shoes, she watches his eyes travel slowly up her legs and body until he’s looking at her face. 

“Damn.”

Allie rolls her eyes, but he comes over, sets his hands on her hips. He’s wearing a burgundy suit and white shirt, which just...His dark features and this colour, it’s all a very good look. Allie’s got her hair swept over one shoulder and she puts her arms around his neck. 

“You can stop staring,” she teases.

“No I can’t.” She laughs a little, leans in to kiss him. Her lipstick is just a few shades lighter than his suit. He pulls away and walks over to his desk, to that little velvet thing he keeps his watches in. He picks a gold one. 

“I feel old,” she blurts out, and Harry laughs. She watches him unbutton his sleeve, slip his watch on and fasten it without looking, then button the shirt again. There is something so, so sexy about that and it’s almost absurd to think so. 

“Why?”

She grins. “Feels like getting ready for fancy parties with you is like…” She loses her nerve, but he looks at her questioningly. “Like looking into the future.”

“Allie,” he breathes out, then rests his hand on her neck and closes his eyes. “Keep talking like that and we won’t make it downstairs.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks, then just barely teases his lips with hers. She loves the way that always makes him let out a little sound like she’s truly torturing him. “Thinking about our future turns you on?”

She means for it to be a joke but he just nods, fingertips pressing into her skin. 

“It really does,” he says all seriously. She’s asked before how he’s gotten so...grown, and mature, and serious. He hasn’t ever given a straight answer. Maybe he doesn’t know, either. But it drives her crazy sometimes that he’s like this. 

“We better go,” she says, but doesn’t move. He nods, but doesn’t either. She laughs at them, sets her hand on his face. He smiles, and she likes the feel of it against her palm. “Come on. Can’t wait for all these middle-aged women to ogle you.”

He laughs out loud, slips his arm around her as they walk out of his room. He’d told her earlier that the last few years, at least once during this party, he’s felt like an old lady was hitting on him. She’d asked, teasingly, if she had some competition, and he’d made some joke about being a kept man, which is just so, so stupid. 

Before they get to the bottom of the stairs, she leans over and says into his ear, “You look so hot,” and he’s grinning like he’s won some kind of fucking prize when they hit the floor of the foyer and he starts greeting people. 

Allie hugs her friends, doles out and receives compliments. She asks Karen if she can ‘sneak’ Poppy a sip of champagne at midnight, and the girl, in her green party dress, acts like she’s grown when, minutes before the countdown, Allie pours some champagne from her glass into Poppy’s plastic cup. Harry reaches for her hand, squeezes twice before letting go. She didn’t think he was paying attention; he’s wrapped up in some conversation with Mr. Selig about some firm in Bridgeport that Harry should consider interning at. 

Harry’s arm is hooked around her waist as the countdown starts, and then he kisses her soundly at _three_ and Allie grins against his lips at his impatience. When everyone cheers around them, he says he loves her, then tells her to behave herself when she presses her lips against the hinge of his jaw. 

He starts laughing, and she turns around just in time to see Poppy making a sour face at the taste of her champagne. 

Allie leans against him, his thumb brushing her side through her dress. 

At 2am, in his dad’s study (which they all still consider his dad’s study, even years after his death), she sits against Harry on the sofa and watches Helena and Luke talking quietly to each other, and then Grizz flirting badly but adorably with Sam. He’d told her months ago about his crush. Harry sips his drink and Allie yawns, and he asks in her ear what that’s all about, gesturing to Grizz and Sam with his champagne glass. He obviously already knows the answer, so Allie just shrugs coyly and loves the vibration of his chuckling beneath her shoulder. 

When they’re alone in his room after everyone’s left, they stay up too late having sex and talking and then having sex again. Harry asks her what three things she wants to happen this year. She feels like this is a thoughtful question. She answers honestly. She poses the same question back to him. He gives one answer related to school, one related to some investment he wants to make, and then grins like he knows how cute he’s being when he says, “You.”

She rolls her eyes, leans up to kiss him, and then his hand is resting on her back when she drifts off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Living with her parents is difficult. Not only because she’s now used to having more independence than she has with the two of them around all the time, but also because she realizes even when she lived here she wasn’t home much. Between school, soccer practices and games, and friends, home was mostly for food, homework, and sleeping.

Now, she’s unemployed, studying for certification, and hanging out with her boyfriend. Who also lives with his family. Honestly, it takes just a few months before she starts feeling a little pissed she can’t just be on her own already. And Harry’s place offers relief, but she doesn’t want to be there all the time, either, because it feels rude to everyone, and also he’s like, trying to get a law degree. Summer was great. Harry took a few credits, because he’s Harry and of course he did. But they mostly bummed around at his house, taking advantage of his pool. And she spent most of her time missing soccer and trying to pretend she didn’t. He absolutely called her on it, which she should’ve expected. Or rather, she knew he’d know and it was pointless to try and hide it. But she tried anyway.

She gets into it with her parents, who seem to think the job she has with her old soccer team as an assistant coach isn’t good enough. They know she’s working towards her career, and it’s not like she’s slacking on that, but they just seem to think she’s _around_ a lot, and she doesn’t like the insinuation that she shouldn’t be in her own house.

“We could move into the pool house,” Harry tells her, and she thinks he’s serious, and she just rolls her eyes. She hates that she’s crying about this stupid fight. It’s ridiculous. She just feels like she’s an adult in so many ways, except she’s having dumb fights with her parents like a teenager. She hates that it makes her feel like a child.

“Something about squatting in your mom’s pool house feels even more pathetic than living at home.” It sounds mean. She doesn’t intend it to and he doesn’t seem bothered. But the idea of shacking up with her boyfriend behind his mom’s place is just… “I feel stuck.”

“You’ll be teaching soon,” he reminds her. And she thinks, really, what he’s reminding her is that she’ll be making _money_ soon. She could - maybe should - get some kind of other job to have an income and start saving up, but she also just doesn’t know where she’d live. It’s not like this little town has a lot of rental units on the market.

What she’s not saying is that she thinks she should wait until they know where he’s going to be practicing. And she thought she could manage the wait until they knew. But that feels so far away now.

And it’s insane to think of moving in with him _now_. They’ve been together barely a year, and have been in the same geography, cumulatively, like four months of that time.

“I don’t want to be a loser,” she admits, which is maybe part of it. There are a lot of parts of it. Maybe she can’t keep them all straight. But this is the one that’s hitting her hard right now, so it’s the one she says.

“Oh my god,” he says, laughing, which sort of doesn’t help and absolutely pisses her off. He seems to realize it quickly, slips his arm around her shoulders. “You’re not a loser. You graduated like, three months ago. And you’re dating me.”

Allie rolls her eyes. “Who says you’re not a loser, too?”

Harry laughs like that’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, kisses her temple and hugs her, asks if she’s staying the night and looks a little proud of her when she says no, that she should go home and talk to her parents.

… … …

In November, she gets a job at Harry’s old private school, a half hour outside of West Ham. It’s not a teaching position, which sort of bums her out. Her title is ‘secretary’, which she fucking hates, but the salary isn’t the absolute worst if could be, and she does get benefits, which feels like a win. And she knows working in a school will be great for her resume. She does mostly menial tasks, like filing and record keeping and calls to parents and setting up meetings for the principal. She’s tasked with getting food for meetings, which is annoying. But the school’s gym teacher talks to her about soccer and possibly helping out with the team when the season rolls around.

Harry always tells her how hot she looks in her work clothes. She tells him how hot he looks when he’s studying and his hair gets all messed up from putting his hands in it. He thinks she’s joking, but she’s really not. She brings him tea to calm him, and asks how she can help him study. She offers to make flashcards, and sits on the floor of his bedroom, making sure her writing is as neat as possible, while he reads case studies and talks things through with her. He jokes she’s going to end up being able to pass the bar, too. It is absolutely untrue, obviously. She doesn’t even think the flashcards are going to be useful at all, but he doesn’t say so and she thinks, too, that he just likes the company and that she cares as much as she does.

Sometimes she watches Poppy in the evenings, when Harry’s not back from New Haven yet and Karen works late. Allie rarely has to stay at work past 3:30, so she can almost always get there in time. Sometimes she makes dinner for them, placing the leftovers in the fridge in containers for Harry and Karen. Sometimes she takes Poppy to her house, though, just because...Okay, look. She remembers having someplace to go and people to be around who weren’t her parents or her sister. She likes the idea of being that for Poppy, although her situation is obviously super different.

And she knows her parents love Poppy, too. Her dad insists on calling her Penelope, which Allie thinks is sort of sweet. She nearly tears up just once, thinking about James and how he used to treat her with such an overwhelming amount of kindness when he had no obligation to do so.

They fall asleep in the Binghams’ living room once, watching this stupid show Poppy likes that Allie thinks is just a touch too old for the girl, but she also remembers being that age and watching shit she shouldn’t have. Harry’s pushing Allie’s hair off her face when she wakes up, blinking, asking what time it is. It’s barely 9pm, and she laughs at herself. He kisses her hello quickly, then wakes his sister and tells her to head up to bed.

“Hey,” he tells Allie when they’re in her bedroom. He’d offered to drive her home after his mom got in, and she’d suggested he stay, and at this point she doesn’t need to run it by her parents - they had that conversation ages ago and he’s welcome with some kind of open invitation. Harry’s got some clothes and stuff at her place, same as she has stuff at his. “You’re really great to her.”

Instead of just taking the compliment, she grins a bit and turns on her back to look up at him. “You expect me to be a jerk?”

He rolls his eyes. “Can you just…” He stops, sighs. Allie sets her hand on his shoulder, moves her thumb to let him know she’s ready to be serious. “You’re great to all of us. Me, and mom, and...It just means a lot.”

Allie’s telling the truth when she says, “They mean a lot to me.”

She knows he’ll get what she’s not saying, which is that the people who are most important to him and most important to her, too.

… … …

For Christmas, she gets him a watch that isn’t nearly as fancy as some of the ones he owns, but costs her way more than she’d spend on anything she’d buy herself.

Harry laughs when he opens it, which isn't exactly the reaction she was going for. He sees the look on her face, says, “No, wait. Open yours.”

He’s gotten her a watch, too. They couldn’t be more different - his has a brown leather band and a larger face. Hers is delicate and gold and she’s pretty sure those are actual diamonds instead of numbers. But she does get why he’d laugh at them getting each other the same gift for the same holiday.

“Guess we know each other pretty well,” he says, and Allie wants to laugh at that. Like, obviously.

“Guess we do.” She makes him put his on. It looks _so_ good on him. “I think I’m only becoming a watch person because you’re a watch person,” she admits.

He gives her an obnoxious grin and says, “Glad you’re picking up on my good taste.”

… … …

Harry buys a house without telling her.

Which is fucked up, and sort of pisses her off, and then they get into a fight because he doesn’t understand _why_ she feels this way.

Look, they’ve been sort of talking about it. About living together. In the sense that they know it’s something they want to do, and he’s got one year left of law school, and then they’ll be able to ‘settle’. They use that word like there’s really anything ‘unsettled’ about the way things are now. Which...Okay, maybe there is. They’re together almost every night, sleeping in one or the other of their beds. And she’s never felt better about their relationship than she does now. They’re good at communicating because she thinks they’re both afraid of _not_ communicating. When either of them is struggling to express themselves, the other waits. When she had her first panic attack in well over a year, he’d sat with her on the bathroom floor and asked her to talk to him. It was gentle and sweet and caring in a way that almost made her scream about how serious this feels. About how much she likes that it’s this serious, even if she knows they’re still young for it.

And they’ve been talking about money, because she thinks that money is the big difference between them, really. Like, he’s got a trust fund, and no loans, and investments, and Allie has a few grand a month she makes as a secretary, and she absolutely knows how privileged she is to not have many expenses right now, and to have no student loans thanks to soccer, and to be able to build up just a little bit of a nest egg. She’s definitely thankful for all the things that put her in the position she’s in.

But she sort of thought they’d make a decision about _where_ they’d live together, _together_.

She knows right away that he’s disappointed with her reaction, but like also, _what the fuck_.

“You can’t just…” She clenches her fists, nails pressing…

Harry reaches for her hands, slips his fingers against her palms. “Stop,” he says lowly, and she looks at him darkly. ”You’ll love it.”

“You’re single handedly making decisions about our future,” she says, which is huge and scary, and she’s half terrified he just won’t agree, which will be worse than him doing it in the first place. “You just...I thought…”

He closes his eyes, realization expressed in the way he lets out his breath. “You wanted to do it together.” Allie shrugs. And she _knows_ it’s stupid, because she’s got next to nothing to contribute to the purchase of this house, but… “I mean, it’s…”

She steeles herself. “Just say it.”

_Just say my input doesn’t matter because it’s your money._

“I had to move quickly,” he says instead, which feels stupid. She just wants him to say the thing. “I didn’t do it without thinking of you.”

That’s not the point.

“So I’ll pay you rent.” She takes her hands from his, crosses her arms. Harry rolls his eyes dramatically, which he knows she fucking hates. “If you’re gonna treat me like a roommate anyway.”

“Allie,” he groans. “Can we talk about this like adults?”

“Implying I’m a child isn’t the best way to get me to do what you want,” she bites out, and he holds up his hands, conceding. _Good_. “I don’t know how you can be so confused as to why this is really insulting. If you want a place for yourself, just say so.”

“I want a place for us. This isn’t about who’s paying what. I don’t give a shit about that.” Okay, well...Fine. Maybe. _Maybe_. She’s got some feelings to work through about that. “It’s halfway between New Haven and your school. It’s gorgeous. I should’ve shown you, okay? But I was getting pressure from the sellers to confirm my offer or they were gonna go to the next person.”

Not convinced, she reminds him, “There are other houses in this geography.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. He’s looking to the floor. This is the exact moment she realizes there’s something he’s not telling her. The only time he really avoids her eyes is when he’s not telling the entire truth. He never _lies_ , but he often tries to wordsmith his way around things. He’s gonna make a good lawyer.

“Okay, so. What else?”

He’s grinning a little - likely at how well she knows him.

“There’s like, this really great front garden,” he says, then looks up at her under his lashes. _Goddammit_. She does not want to think… “It reminded me of your grandparents’ place. And it’s totally a starter home. It’s just three bedrooms.”

Allie laughs. A three bedroom house being considered a starter home for him is like, a pretty big indicator of the differences between their approaches to all this. Like, she honestly thought they’d rent an apartment together in the city, or something. Not invest in fucking real estate.

“Harry…”

He shrugs a little, then takes her hand again, laces their fingers together. “Honestly, the second I saw all those fucking flowers…”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she says, but she doesn’t mean it, really. She’s just on the verge of tears, and she sort of also hates that she’s softening on this, too. She wanted to be mad for longer. She thinks she almost deserves to be. But also, _god_ , he gets her.

“Then I walked in and could like, picture us living there.”

Allie tilts her head. That’s sweet. This is all sweet. But also: “I would’ve liked to picture it, too.”

Harry nods silently, and she knows he knows she’s right.

But then this asshole says, “I’ll make all future real estate purchases with you.”

She doesn’t mean to laugh. She doesn’t want to. That is just such an absurd statement. Like, how many homes are there gonna be? But with Harry, there’s just really no way to know. She’s seen his bank balance. It’s staggering. The fact that he can purchase a ‘starter home’ in his early twenties is sort of gross, but part of her is wondering if it’s weird he didn’t purchase something sooner. Ugh.

“I’ll make you a drink and show you the photos,” he says, and Allie sighs, smiling at him.

She’s sufficiently convinced that he did absolutely consider her - quite a lot, really - when he was doing this. She can tell he’s really excited to share this with her. The fact that he can picture them living in this house is actually really cute.

“Harry.” He looks up, wearing that stupid crooked grin that is probably 100% responsible for her initial crush on him when she was like, literally a child. “Congratulations.”

He smiles full on, kisses her quickly, then steps away from her, grabs his laptop and then starts for the door to go downstairs and get her that drink.

But not before saying, “Congrats to you, too, roomie.”

He’s laughing when she lets out a sound of disgust and calls him an asshole.

… … …

Harry rents a truck, complains about not just hiring movers, but it’s also not like they have a bunch of big items. They have basically clothes, books, personal items, and hardly anything else. Luke comes in to help, and Becca offers, too, though she isn’t thrilled about it. She’s just too good a friend not to. Plus, Allie knows, though no one else does, that Becca’s been thinking of getting her real estate license and wants to see what their one story, three bedroom, open concept place looks like on the inside.

Allie’s mom cries. Cassandra says she cried when Gordie moved into Cassie’s place, too. Allie remembers that conversation she and her mom had in Florida and isn’t surprised by any of it. But it does make her feel a little guilty, though she knows she shouldn’t and her mom doesn’t mean for that to be the outcome.

She was smart and told Harry the first thing they needed to buy was a mattress. So there’s a king sized wrapped in plastic sitting on the floor in their bedroom, and all their boxes, and a bunch of other smaller items they’ve bought strewn throughout the house. The rest is totally empty. It’s a little overwhelming.

Becca, at the end of the day, pulls a potted plant and a bottle of gin out of her car, tells them to enjoy their first night in their house. There’s a wink, too, and Allie does not want to know if Harry saw that. The way he nudges her with his elbow confirms he did. Luke says he’ll bring something to the official housewarming. Allie’s already panicking at the thought of getting the place ready to host people.

Harry hooks his arm around her waist, presses her against the kitchen island. They’re both sweaty and gross, and she knows her hair is a mess without even looking at it. But Harry’s kissing her and murmurs something about them being able to do this wherever they want. She knows that’s true - is equally happy about it. But also…

“Shower?” she asks, slipping her hand up under his shirt, pushing gently. She moves out from between him and the counter and he sort of whines about it until she grabs his shirt and tugs. “To start.”

“Shit,” he laughs softly, and Allie smiles all the way down the hall.

… … …

Coming home to Harry becomes - very quickly - one of her favourite things. It’s not every day, given his schedule. But two nights a week, he’s home before her. Well, Tuesday he doesn’t have classes at all. He’s there, making dinner or studying or watching television or reading. They turned the third bedroom into an office. Mostly for him, really, though her diploma is also on the wall and all their books are mixed together on the shelves. He says something about ‘his and hers desks’ before making the purchase. His is covered in shit and hers is tidy and barely used. But she likes that it’s there.

Likes that he’s there.

She walks into the house the evening of the first snow, and it smells amazing in here and she sees the bottle of wine on the counter. Harry’s literally wearing an apron and baking fucking _cookies_ , and she loves this man so much she thinks it might be a little stupid. She never thought she’d feel like this, ever. About anyone. And despite how she feels sometimes that they were inevitable, the fact that _Harry_ is the one she’s doing this with still makes her feel rattled, just every once in a while. Usually when something feels this domestic, this stable. This _normal_.

“Hey,” he says when she’s kicking off her shoes and shrugging off her coat.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and he grins when she steps into the kitchen, kisses him quickly, and then glances into the pot on the stove. It looks like some kind of soup, which she’s totally here for on the coldest day of the year so far.

“Comfort foods,” is what he answers, which makes her press her lips together to keep from smiling too big.

“Are you in need of comfort?”

Harry tuts out a laugh, shrugs his shoulder. He asks her about her day. She sits at the counter and drinks wine and watches him move around their kitchen and checks out his ass in his pants when he bends down to take cookies from the oven. He catches her looking and raises a brow. Allie wants to tell him to forget the rest of the cookies and kiss her. Instead, he slides a warm cookie on a plate towards her and she takes a bite.

Days later, he comes home from class and she’s making lasagna for the first time in her life. She’s literally just cleaned the kitchen, which she sort of accidentally destroyed in the process, because she had no idea making this meal was such a fucking _process_ , okay? She’s sitting on the sofa with her laptop open when he walks in, and she thinks, honestly, that she’ll never get tired of seeing his face do that thing it does when he opens the door and sees her.

Harry asks how long til dinner’s ready, then closes her laptop, covers her body with his and takes her right there on the sofa before he’s even actually said hello. Allie doesn’t care in the slightest. She’s pushing her fingers through his hair when the oven timer goes off. Harry laughs against her skin, presses his lips to the swell of her breast and says he’s spoiled.

He rolls his eyes when she says, “Something new for you,” and then she’s laughing too hard when he drags his fingers up her side torturously where she’s ticklish.

… … ...

She leases a new car in January when her parents ask, gently, if they can have their second vehicle back. They’d told her it was hers to use as long as she needed it, and she feels kind of like an asshole when she realizes she should’ve gotten her own sooner and was absolutely taking advantage of their generosity.

She gets this cute Honda SUV thing that Harry helps her select and haggles with the salesperson on her behalf to lower the cost of, and then also gets her floor mats, or whatever, for free. She honestly didn’t even know what to expect out of this process, but she knows this was the only dealership that took _her_ seriously as the buyer and not him, and that’s a big part of why she signed the lease. Harry’d gotten them vending machine snacks while she went through the paperwork. The salesperson called him her husband and she didn’t correct him, but she did lose her train of thought and ask him to repeat the thing he just said about where she needed to sign.

When they get home, Allie’s almost out of patience. Not with the car buying process, or learning she couldn’t just drive away with it, or anything like that. Harry’s barely said two words since they left the dealership. She can tell he has something to say. She wants to give him time to find his words, but he’s taking ages. So she goes out and pulls all her personal stuff out of her parents’ car so she can give it back. If he needs time, he can have it. They’re good like this with each other.

“Hey, so,” he says when she comes back in. She smiles and then he does too, and it’s clear he knows she was just giving him space; that he appreciates that. “I really want you to have space in the garage, but…”

Oh, my god. This asshole (adorable idiot) has been fretting over use of their two car garage. He got a fancy new Audi last year, but the Maserati sits in the garage for very, very occasional driving. And Allie knows it’s never leaving his possession. It was his dad’s. He’s not letting it go and she’s never thought for a second he would, nor would she ask him to.

“Harry,” she says gently, instead of telling him he’s a little dumb for worrying about this, “I’m not bothered by parking in the driveway. But you’re very sweet for thinking of it.”

“It seems unfair.”

She gives him a look. She lives rent free in a house he bought. While they share the expenses and bought most of the big things for the place together, she is super aware that the mortgage is in his name and she doesn’t see a cent of it come out of her account. She knows how much it is, and has gotten over the feeling that the house is his, not theirs. Like, technically it’s his. But also _technically_ theirs.

“I have no complaints,” she tells him, and that’s sort of become one of the things they say often. Particularly when checking in about feelings and schedules and things like this. They trust each other to say how they feel, but this seals the deal too. “Though I’m surprised you’re okay with the Honda being on display. People might think we’re poor.”

Harry laughs loudly, puts his arms around her neck and holds her close to him.

“You’re…”

He doesn’t finish. Allie says, “I know,” because she thinks it was something positive and he likes when that’s her answer to his compliments.

… … …

He catches her looking up rec leagues and gives her a knowing look when she tries to hide her screen. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t said anything to him about it, but it’s just...She’s been thinking about it. About soccer. About missing it, and how much she loves assistant coaching, and sometimes helping out at school. She has the itch to play and it’s not going away.

One evening, he’s typing away on his laptop and she’s scrolling the league site on her phone, and she doesn’t think he’s paying attention to her - he shouldn't be, when he's preparing for a mock trial - but he says, “Allie, would you just register?” like he’s getting a little annoyed with her pretending she doesn’t want to do just that, or maybe annoyed that she's just not talking to him about it at all.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

He scoffs, gives her a look like she’s being at least 70% ridiculous. “I’m encouraging you to do what you clearly want to do anyway.”

She glares at him exaggeratedly so he’ll know she’s joking when she says, “You don’t know me.”

He just laughs, looks back at his screen. He kisses her temple after she’s done registering, though she didn’t even tell him she did, just got her credit card to pay the registration fee and then set her phone down. He goes back to prepping right after and appreciates that he’s not making it a big thing.

She doesn’t let him come to her first practices or her first game. She feels out of shape even though she does still work out and she’s slowly sort of building up a home gym in their basement.

She has an assist in the first game, and tells him he can come to the second.

When he pulls up with her grandpa sitting shotgun in the car, Allie puts her hand on her hip, stops paying attention to warm up, and gives him a look. He’s disgustingly sweet. She might literally cry if she wasn’t so filled with pre-game nerves now that he’s here and he’s brought a special guest.

The two of them cheer loudly when she scores. Allie misses her grandma so badly it almost makes her chest hurt. After the game, Harry and her grandpa are standing there waiting for her.

“Ice cream?” her grandpa suggests. Harry looks downright cute when he looks down at his shoes.

Allie feels like a kid as she sits on this picnic table in her soccer uniform, her grandpa across from her, Harry to her right, poking her in the thigh just to pester her.

… … …

She spends her weekends and a lot of evenings trying to sort the flower beds. They’re pretty, Harry was right, but they were all annuals last year and he just didn’t know the difference. She’s fine with it, mostly, but also wants some roses, some glads and the hanging baskets of petunias like her grandma always had.

Harry goes with her to the garden centre, pulls out his credit card without complaining. He helps her load black earth and plants into the back of her car - because he absolutely would not allow this kind of cargo in either of his cars, obviously.

Allie’s watering in the evening with the special wand attachment she insisted she needed. She keeps expecting him to tell her this is all crazy, but he never does, just tells her she should get whatever she needs. She won’t pretend she’s surprised by that response.

Harry’s sitting on the front step with a beer bottle dangling between his fingers. He’s just staring, watching her. She’s tempted to spray him with the hose.

“What?” she asks, laughing, and pulls a deadhead from one of the baskets, tosses it onto the little pile of stuff she’ll throw in the paper bag in the garage after watering.

“You look happy.”

Allie smiles, shakes her head. “Surprised?”

“No,” he says, then stands, walks over and slides his hand across her lower back above the band of her shorts. He presses his lips to her temple. “Glad I could give you what you wanted.”

She’d normally call him on it, on the insinuation that she needs him and his money or whatever to be content. That her happiness has anything to do with those things and she couldn’t be happy without him.

But that’s also absolutely not how he meant it, and she thinks there’s something really kind of lovely about the thought. God, he bought this particular house so she could have _this_ ; evenings in the yard with him, and flowers that make her happy and remind her of her grandma.

So she grabs him by the shirt, leaving a dirty handprint there and not caring whatsoever, pulls him down for a kiss and says, “Me too.”

… … ...

She has a standing bi-weekly video chat with Maya, Ashley, Reagan and Brynn. For one, she’s in the living room and Harry comes down the hall with just a towel around his hips like he’s forgotten that Sunday mornings twice a month she has this thing. Which he definitely has not actually forgotten. She’s totally distracted and he’s wearing a shit eating grin like he knows exactly what he’s doing, even if this wasn’t planned.

He says, “Hey,” to everyone, and then picks up his coffee mug, which is apparently what he came out here for.

“Your boyfriend is a tease,” Ashley says, and Harry’s laughing as he heads back towards their bedroom.

“No, he just loves himself more than he loves anyone,” Allie says too loudly, so he’ll hear.

He shouts back, “Not true, superstar!” and she rolls her eyes, but she fucking _loves_ that he’s not only used her old nickname in front of her soccer friends, but also that he’s not shy about saying he loves her more.

She’s thinking about him for the rest of the call. When she goes to find him afterward, he’s still just in his towel, leaning back on their bed with his coffee in one hand and a book in the other.

“You’re gross,” she tells him, but doesn’t mean it. She gets onto the bed, knees astride him, and pulls open his towel before she rests her weight on him.

“Clearly you can’t stand me.”

She’s shaking her head when he sinks a hand into her hair and drags her down to kiss her hard.

… … ...

Luke and Helena settle in Stamford in a modern loft conversion, and then immediately get engaged. Harry and Allie drive in for a small celebratory gathering, and Allie’s so happy for their friends she can’t stop smiling. Harry teases her, saying it’s the champagne. She tells him to shut up and stop bugging her because she’s allowed to be happy. Helena talks about the proposal and how romantic it was. It’s absolutely the opposite of what Allie would want, but that doesn’t surprise her, either.

She’s told Harry before that if he did some grand, romantic gesture in public, she’d break up with him. She didn’t mean it, but she’d sort of meant it. It makes her super uncomfortable to think of having all that attention. And she really, really loves that all their big moments have mostly been just between the two of them. She likes how personal it is. She likes that only they know about things that are just for the two of them. Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but Harry gets it, too. So it’s fine.

On the drive home, Harry asks, “What’d you think of the ring?”

Allie turns her head to look at him, and he’s looking at the road, one hand on the wheel, trying to be nonchalant.

She’s not stupid. She knows what he’s asking. They don’t talk about marriage and rings and proposals, because it’s not something either of them is in a rush to do. They’re still young, and they’re not Helena and Luke. There’s no religious aspect here, and their families don’t care about them living together without tying the knot or planning to in the foreseeable future. They’ve joked before that maybe they’ll just be common law, or whatever, because marriage is sort of fucked up, anyway. Basically, they don’t need to have their whole future sorted out right now.

Him asking about the ring as if he doesn’t know already that it’s absolutely not her style is just like, not very subtle.

“It’s a little big and expensive,” she answers, and Harry laughs, glances her way. “Not everyone wants something like that. My mom calls them gunk catchers.”

“Shit. That’s harsh,” he chuckles, then reaches over and rests his free hand on her thigh like he usually does when they’re driving. “So you want something small and pathetic. Theoretically.”

Allie smiles at his joke, but says his name, and he looks over at her. “Theoretically, I want something pretty and meaningful that looks good on my hand.” He smiles and nods. This isn’t news to him. Pretending he hasn’t thought about this before is sort of cute, but also he’s not fooling anyone. “Your track record with buying me jewelry is pretty good, so I wouldn’t think too hard on it.”

“I’m not,” he answers way too quickly for it to be the truth. She squeezes his hand. “I mean, I’m not planning to buy anything soon. Just thinking.”

She likes how quickly she can get him to tell her the truth and admit it’s really on his mind.

“Just thinking about marrying me?” she asks, because god, why not just go for it and say it out loud?

“Believe it or not, it’s a thing I think about kind of all the time.”

She did not think she was the type to be flattered by that, to fall for him even more when he says it. But her breath sort of catches. He notices, because of course he does.

(She thinks, distantly, about Simon, and a similar conversation, and nearly having a panic attack at the thought of him even considering for a second that they might be married at some point. But this is different. It’s obviously different. It’s always been different.)

“Yeah?” she asks softly, and god, this smirk is criminal. He nods, and his foot eases off the gas as they approach their exit off the highway. “Like me so much you wanna get the law involved?”

Harry laughs, shakes his head. “I take it back. You’re barely tolerable,” he teases.

Allie leans across the centre console and kisses his cheek. He leans into it like she knew he would.

… … …

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Harry gets a job at his mom’s firm. He’s worried about nepotism, but like...this is straight up nepotism, so she doesn’t know what he expects her to say. He’s also worried that he’s gonna end up here his entire career, but Allie reminds him he can do whatever he wants and shouldn’t feel obligated to stay just because his mom’s name - his name - is on the wall. He had an offer from a firm in New Haven, too, and he’d waffled back and forth a ton and it came down to the fact that he’ll get more experience (and a better salary) at his mom’s firm rather than the other. She thinks what he’s really feeling is guilty, knowing that the added responsibility and pay is probably entirely because his grandfather started the firm and his mom’s now senior partner.

In August, she learns there’s a position opening in the English department at the school. She’s done some supplying whilst there, but the teachers at this fancy ass private school tend to work until retirement, apparently. She’s applied at other schools in the public district, and some other private ones, but she hasn’t been able to get a better or more steady offer than this one. She didn’t think she’d have an opportunity come up, honestly. She’s never pictured herself working in a school like this one as a _teacher_ , but now that it’s right in front of her, she wants it. Badly. A full time position like this one is rare, and she works on her application for hours and has Harry read it over and takes his recommendations.

She cries when she gets it. Harry says, “I’m so fucking proud of you,” and her parents - whose house they’re at for a visit when her phone rings - don’t even think there’s anything wrong with his curse.

She sort of loves that they’re all here for this. Her grandpa chokes up a little when they stop by so she can tell him. Karen and Poppy both squeal and congratulate her.

Allie bursts into tears when they get home, and Harry wraps her into a hug and holds her a minute until she’s laughing at herself.

“This is so stupid. I just feel like…” He pulls back, pushes his fingers into her hair so it’s back off her face. She needs a cut but she’s liked leaving it a little wild for the summer. She knows he’s liked it, too. “I’m so happy.”

“You should be.”

“No, I mean.” She stops herself, gathers her thoughts. Harry’s patient, strokes his thumb along her jaw as she thinks. Which is distracting and he knows it. “Everything.” He smiles, so she probably doesn't need to say more, but she will anyway. “Your job, and now mine, and us, and this house. It’s just…”

“Love to see a plan come together.”

Asshole. Allie pushes her hands against his chest and he laughs. “You didn’t plan any of this.” He shrugs like that’s not really true. Maybe he’s right. She feels like this is a serious enough moment to ask him a question that’s been on her mind for maybe a few years. “Did you really always think we’d end up like this?”

He smiles - probably at the insinuation that they’ve _ended up_ anywhere.

“No,” he answers honestly, and Allie nods, and she feels like she’s almost relieved to know he feels the same as her. “But the times when I didn’t, except when I was in high school and too stupid to just make you mine - “ Allie laughs, shaking her head. “ - I was pretty fucking miserable without you.”

“You weren’t,” she argues, though she has no basis for it. She remembers, too, when they weren’t talking and how she felt about it. It wasn’t good. It was...pretty awful, actually.

“I was,” he says sincerely, not looking at her. She realizes he’s looking at their hands. She realizes he’s telling the truth. “But we were young and dumb.”

Allie laughs softly, nods. “I mean, you were. I’m faultless.” Harry rolls his eyes, knowing she’s just teasing. They’re so far past all that, that they can joke without it hurting. “I really love you.”

This particular smile of his has always made her feel like she’s a little breathless.

… … …

She and her mom get rear ended in traffic leaving New York after an overnight visit to Cassandra when Gordie is out of town for work. Allie’s chewing her thumb, torn between calling Harry immediately and letting him know, or leaving it until she gets home. Given his history with car accidents, she thinks he’s going to feel awful and upset either way. Her mom is dealing with insurance and the other driver and everything, and Allie, selfishly, is glad they decided to take her mom’s car and not her own.

She decides it’s worse to not say anything until they get home, and dials Harry as she stands along the side of the road with the snow gently falling.

“We’re both totally fine and everything is minor and there’s barely any damage, but we got into an accident.” She says it in a rush because she doesn’t want there to be any more room for worry than absolutely necessary. He’s silent on the line and then asks what happened and she tells him. She caps it, again, with, “We’re fine. No injuries. The airbags didn’t even go off.”

“Okay,” he breathes, and she worries about his anxiety level, but he offers, anyway, to come get them if they need it. They don’t; it’s just a broken tail light and a dent that’ll need to be banged out and painted over. They’ll be home soon, and he seems further relieved when she tells him her mom’s coming back and then they’ll be back on the road.

When she walks through the door, he’s waiting there in the living room and gets up to hug her before she’s even dropped her bag.

He gives her a once over like he needs to see with his own eyes that she’s fine. And she understands it. She really does. But then, when she takes her coat off and tosses it on the chair - she’ll hang it up later - his brow furrows and he tilts her head a bit to the side, his eyes lingering on her neck.

“You said you were fine.” She doesn’t even know what he’s talking about. She looks at the mirror they have in their entryway and sees a little rash on her neck from the seatbelt.

“I’m fine. It’s…” She stops herself from saying his mouth has been responsible for worse marks on her body. She’s thankful she doesn’t say it. She knows it wouldn’t go over well. “Harry, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He hugs her again, burying his face against her shoulder. “I’m overreacting,” he admits. Allie smiles to herself, but doesn’t say anything. “But…”

“I know,” she whispers. She puts her hands on his face when she pulls away, kisses him gently, and says, “I missed you this weekend,” because it’s true and she wants to change the subject and make this feel normal.

Harry’s eyes slip closed, and she doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but she thinks it’s just all relief, and she lets him feel whatever it is he needs to feel.

That night, in the dark in their room, he kisses the mark on her neck and tells her, quietly, sadly, about the night his dad died and how he’d found out and how it was the fucking worst moment of his life. She remembers, around the same time, Harry giving her an overview, but this is different. It’s detailed. And it breaks her heart completely that even all these years on, he can still remember that night so vividly. She understands it. She knows the feeling and she will never, ever forget being in her parents’ car and her dad turning around to tell her her grandma had passed. And that felt different and less sudden than Harry losing his dad so young.

He says, “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you then,” and Allie holds her breath and rests her hand on his chest. He waits a beat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you now.”

Allie doesn’t make any promises that he won’t have to find out, because she knows she can’t do that. But she does remind him she loves him and listens to the soft way he says, “I know.”

… … …

At Luke and Helena’s wedding, Harry’s hand sits on her back as they dance and he says something about the couple being lucky he even showed up, because what he really wanted the second he saw Allie in this dress was to take it off her and press his face between her legs.

Good god. The way this man can make her breath hitch, her cheeks flare, the way he is so _casual_ about it, dancing with her at their friends’ _wedding_ with his lips so close to her ear.

She tells him to behave himself and he chuckles lowly, says, “You don’t have to act like you don’t want it, too.”

He knows her too well to think she’ll back down from this kind of challenge; she’s way too competitive to let him think he’s won something. Even if she’s the prize. Even if they both really win.

“No, you know exactly how much I love that.” She feels his breath against her ear, feels the way he flexes his fingers. Allie moves her hand up his back and into his hair, her nails scratching lightly, and pulls back enough to watch his eyes close like she knew they would. “Don’t ever forget who you’re going up against, Harry. I don’t lose.”

He gets an absolutely vicious grin on his lips and raises his brow. “No?”

“Not to you. I know you too well.”

“Mhm.” She would literally wipe the stupid, smug look off his face if she could. “Are you suggesting I don’t know you at all?”

Allie laughs, wanting to lighten this up before they sneak off to the bathroom or something else tacky. She wouldn’t put it past them. She won’t be the girl who fucks her boyfriend at a fancy event just because he’s good with his mouth in all the ways that matter most.

“I’m saying you’re easier than I am.” Harry laughs loudly, head tipping back. Grizz, nearby, looks their way and Allie can’t read the expression on his face other than just thinking he looks happy.

When she’s sitting with him after - when Harry’s dancing with Helena’s mom because Allie told him he should and he’d rolled his eyes dramatically and got up, straightening his tie - she leans her head against Grizz’s shoulder and he drapes his arm lazily around her.

“Ever think you two would get here? Looking absolutely disgusting and smitten at a wedding that isn’t yours?” he asks, and Allie barks out a laugh, sips from Harry’s glass of scotch now that the ice has mostly melted.

“No,” she says quietly. But it’s a lie. It’s absolutely a lie. It’s been years of them doing this now, being together and still acting like the flirts they are, and forgetting, sometimes, that anyone else could be watching.

But when she thinks about high school and most of college, she remembers thinking they just weren’t meant to be anything more than friends at best, or people who once knew one another at worst. She remembers hurting each other because they knew how to do it, how to drive the knife in. And god, she remembers being afraid to talk to him about the big things. No, that’s not true. She could talk to him about everything except the way she felt about him. And she never trusted that he could possibly actually want her. Actually like her. Actually _love_ her.

Back then? No, she never considered they’d be heading towards 30, living in a home together, putting in a fucking swmming pool because they miss summers in his yard under the sun and expendable income isn’t an issue.

“I did,” Grizz says, and Allie gives him a dubious look. He shrugs. “Harry wouldn’t shut up about you when he was drinking.” She laughs, because that’s absurd, too, isn’t it? “Still doesn’t. God, get two beers into the guy and he’s talking about you like you’re golden.”

“Fuck you. I am golden,” she says. Grizz laughs, squeezes her closer. Harry catches her eye from the dancefloor but Allie wants to ignore him on principle now.

When Harry walks back to the table after his dance, shoving jovially at Grizz’s arm so he can put his around her instead, he looks at Allie, some very attractive and questioning look on his face, she asks him what his problem is.

“Why’re you all glowy?”

Allie’s head whips around to look at Grizz, and they both burst out laughing, her falling against him and Harry just watching them, confused.

(Later, she tells Harry what Grizz said about him. Without even needing to think about it, he replies, “You are golden,” with this little grin on his lips and his hands on her hips and Allie hopes this feeling never goes away.)

… … …

She’s totally joking when she tells him she wants a pool party for her birthday. But also, she should know by now that joking with Harry about what she wants is a dangerous game, because he always just _does it_.

(She has a stupidly expensive diamond tennis bracelet because after a fight that was totally his fault he asked how she wanted him to make it up to her. She’d rolled her eyes and said, “A Cartier bracelet,” and then asked him what he wanted to watch on Netflix, and a week later there was a red box being slipped out of his breast pocket and a sly look on his face.)

She’s wearing a stupid party hat because Cassandra insisted, and she’s drinking champagne because Becca insisted, and she’s got on her blue two piece because Harry insisted. So far it’s all their friends who could make it - Kelly’s got work, but she might come later, and Sam woke up with a migraine, so he bowed out. Harry’s mom and Poppy are here, as are Allie’s parents and her grandpa, who brought her flowers from the yard and a cheque she absolutely doesn’t need.

Harry disappeared inside a while ago and hasn’t returned, but he can do whatever he wants and she doesn’t need to keep tabs or babysit him. He’d just said he’d be right back and he isn’t back, but like, he’s also an adult in his own house and she’s being entertained by her sister and Gordie and Becca, so it’s fine. They are not the kind of people who need to be next to one another all the time. No, they mostly do that because they _like it_.

When he steps back through the patio door, Maya, Ashley, and Reagan are behind him, and Allie literally screams and runs right past him towards her friends. She hasn’t seen them in _ages_ , since like, over a year ago in Tennessee for Ashley’s engagement party. She hugs them all, and then Harry’s bringing them drinks, and Allie looks at him with a brow raised, because he is 100% behind all this, and he just grins and sips his tequila on ice.

“You’re sneaky,” she tells him, and he slips a hand into his pocket. She’s barefoot and she knows he’s just wearing those stupid Sperry’s because she’d teased him, earlier, asking if he was going to.

“To your benefit.”

Allie smiles, kisses his cheek and slips her fingers between his. She doesn’t know what else to say.

… … …

Every year when the weather’s getting cooler, Allie’s routine changes. When she gets home from work, she heads to the bedroom, changes into pajamas or leggings and a sweater. Today, it’s one with Princeton written across the front. She pulls her hair up in a messy thing, not at all caring what it looks like, and puts her shoes back on the shelf in the closet. And she pulls on the fluffy socks Harry makes fun of her for, because her feet are always cold and she refuses to suffer just because he wants to tease her.

She doesn’t feel like cooking, so she figures they’ll just order. She pours a glass of water, reaches for this book he recommended she read, and sits down on the sofa with her feet up on the coffee table. She tells Google to pay some music and checks her watch. He said he’d be home earlier than usual today because his last meeting got cancelled. She probably doesn’t have much time alone until he gets in, but she doesn’t mind that, either.

When he walks through the front door, he smiles when he sees her, says, “Hey,” and does the same thing he does every day.

He shrugs off his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the chair nearby so he can take it to the bedroom to hang when he goes. Then he braces his hand on the wall, unties his shoes and opens the hall closet, sets them inside.

Harry’s hand reaches to loosen his tie and Allie watches, catches sight of the gold band on his left hand and pushes at her own rings gently, almost subconsciously, with her thumb.

He walks over, leans down to kiss her, then sits next to her and asks her to tell him about her day.

Allie sort of wants to straddle him on the couch (it wouldn’t be the first time for that, either) but manages to resist the urge as they catch up.

When their dinner arrives, she’s getting cutlery and he sets his hand on her hip, reaches past her for plates. She’s a little overwhelmed by him, his cologne, and his chest pressed against her back, and his left hand on her skin under her sweater - always under her sweater - and then his voice in her ear, telling her her hair looks ridiculous, the low chuckle that punctuates it telling her he doesn’t really mean it.

The food gets cold on the counter when she turns, pulls him against her, and watches his brow go up like he’s - for some very unknown reason - surprised that this is her reaction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He pushes her shirt up over her head, tugs the elastic free from her hair, and says, “I’ve wanted you since I walked through the door.”

She means to be teasing when she says, “You’ve wanted me longer than that,” but it comes out low and quiet and then he’s lifting her onto the counter and nodding before he kisses her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! 💙


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